Tending to Those in Need
by SaraiMichelle
Summary: Booker begins to feel things he feel he shouldn't for the woman he's rescuing. Elizabeth has no clue the effect she has on him and only wants to make him feel better. Rated-M, AU! Quite raunchy. *Originally a one-shot* I really dislike the title, but I'll just ignore it for now...
1. Let Me Make You Feel Good

Chapter 1: Let Me Make You Feel Better

**Author's note:** _First things first, this is most definitely AU. Booker and Elizabeth are not father and daughter in this, because then they would be adding to their growing list of illegal acts, and we don't want that, now do we? If you're into the incest thing, then just go with the idea that it's just part of the original storyline. However, even though I don't judge, I don't think I could write that genre because I would just be too uncomfortable._

_I apologize if things seem wrong or out of place, but when I played Bioshock Infinite, I was playing quickly because I was so excited about it that I may have forgotten or didn't hear certain things. So, read on and enjoy!_

**Warning: **_This story contains adult content and is not meant for the younglings. Read with caution and do not hate on me, because I warned you._

_-Sarai_

**Disclaimer: **_**Bioshock**_** is not mine, and never will be (super sad face).**

"What do… What do they want from me?" she inquired with silent desperation.

The look in her bright blue eyes made Booker want to really take her to Paris. To put her somewhere safe and make sure nothing bad ever happened to the young woman. He wanted to protect her from Comstock and all the other things that threatened to harm her. He could feel sorrow and guilt overtake him as she looked away with sadness that had filled her so quickly; replacing the anger she felt towards him just moments ago.

"I don't know, but that's the last time anyone gets the drop on me," he said through gritted teeth. He silently hissed when he balled his hand into a firm fist and caused a surge of pain to go through his entire arm. He lifted his hand to inspect the clean stab wound that had gone straight through his palm.

Elizabeth looked to his bloody injured hand and sighed heavily, "Let me see your hand." She pulled a ribbon from her dress and wrapped the ribbon tightly around his palm, "What happened back there, that…that's not the last of it, is it?"

"I don't know." Another hiss escaped his clenched teeth.

"Sorry," she whispered softly as she tied the ends and made sure the makeshift bandage was secure. She continued to hold his hand in her much smaller ones and traced the callused lines that adorned his fingers and palm. Her face dawned a contemplative look as her eyelids shut slightly.

Booker studied her closely, trying to decipher her thoughts, "What is it?"

"I…I never thought this is what it'd be like," she said so softly that it was almost inaudible. She gazed up at him and sighed when he arched a dark brown brow in question. "All my life I've read books about the world and its beauty. And yes, I've seen quite the beautiful things, but I never knew the violence that corrupted it. I was such a fool to think that I could be safe out here."

Booker felt the sorrow and guilt wave through his body again as her eyes watered slightly. He lifted his good hand to her face and caressed her soft cheek. She shut her eyes and a lone tear slide down her pale face. She leaned her head in his hand and took a step closer, daring to make another physical contact with him. She softly held his bandaged hand to her chest, opened her young eyes that so often held a curious expression and stared into his green eyes.

"But maybe Paris will be different, right Mr. DeWitt?"

He did his best to hide the guilt in his eyes, but he knew some was showing, because her brows furrowed in concern. "Look, Elizabeth…"

"It's alright. You don't have to tell me," she insisted.

He looked to her surprised. _Has she known this whole time? Does she know that I'm actually going to take her to New York instead? _His silent questions were answered when she spoke again.

"I'm too much of a romanticist to want to accept that everywhere, everything, _everyone_ has something bad or violent about it. But I'm smart enough to know the truth, as harsh as it is."

"It's alright to be a romanticist, just don't let it cloud your judgment. There are bad people out there that want to hurt others and gain the upper hand for their own selfish reasons. Even I can be that way," he stated with a soft voice.

"No," she replied with a sternness he had yet to hear from her, "You are not bad nor are you selfish. I can see in your eyes that you want what's right. I can also see pain, Mr. DeWitt. I can see that you are fighting something within yourself and it's tearing you apart."

Booker could feel that certain warmness in his bones as she spoke to him. He had only felt this way so few times in his life and he wasn't very comfortable with it. He dropped his hand from her cheek and took a step back. He couldn't feel this way for someone who he had just met and that he was trying to escape with. Especially since she was his ticket to a clean slate. But she was beautiful with those big clear blue eyes that searched for answers and revelations, her dark hair waiting to be let out of the ribbon and to blow in the wind without a care in the world. Her small figure was the type that was meant to be held and tightly. Meant to be laid down and caressed, kissed on every part of her skin and to pleasure every part of her body.

He shook his head abruptly as the thoughts started to invade his mind. He could feel himself lusting for her and he couldn't allow it. He pulled his injured hand away from the warmth of her clutch and took more steps back until his back hit the wall.

"Mr. DeWitt? Are you alright?" she asked in obvious bewilderment.

He shook his head again and ignored her question. However, he decided that it was probably better if he did answer, because she walked to him and started to inspect his appearance and body, looking for any kind of injury or wound. After announcing he looked completely healthy, apart from his right hand, he should be fine. But he continued to press his back into the wall as if trying to gain more space between the two, but the wall would not have it.

Elizabeth placed her hands on his chest, trying to calm his sudden anxious attitude. She brought her hand to his jawline and ran her fingertips along his structured features. "You're acting most peculiar, Mr. DeWitt. Do you feel ill?"

He inwardly sighed from the feeling of her soft touch, but managed to shake his head, "I feel fine."

She brought the back of her hand to his forehead and stayed still for a second, "You're really hot. Burning, actually," she muttered as she snaked a hand into his vest to feel his skin through the fabric of his dress shirt. He could see on her face that she had no clue what kind of impact she was having on him, she simply was feeling his temperature.

Booker grabbed her hands and pulled them away slightly, "I'm alright Elizabeth. Just need a moment."

Her eyes flickered to discovery and she quickly put her hands on his shoulders, "You should sit down then, Mr. DeWitt, rest. I'd get a chair for you, but it seems there is none near. Take a moment to gather your strength."

Without putting much thought into her order, he slid to the floor and plopped down in a huff of exhaustion. He mentally praised himself for getting out of the rather heated situation that was arising between him and Elizabeth. But, to his dismay, she sat down in front of him, pulling off the scarf around her neck and bringing it to his forehead to cool down the heat from his skin. She leaned in a little closer to dab the scarf on him with less strain on her arm. Booker could feel his heart beat faster when he could smell a hint of the ocean on her skin as she leaned in. He could also detect a slight scent of flowers, and he knew that it suited her. He looked away in a hurry when he caught a small glimpse of cleavage, and now he could feel that familiar bubbly feeling growing in the pit of his stomach that only occurred when he had taken a woman to his quarters, or when one would pleasure him in ways that was meant for the bedroom and the privacy of blankets or closed doors.

"Is something the matter, Mr. DeWitt?" the woman in question inquired, oblivious to the torture she was putting him through.

Even though the feeling of ecstasy mixed with discomfort overwhelmed him, he managed to roll his eyes, "Will stop calling me that? Call me Booker."

"Sorry," she murmured with a small smile, "How do you feel?"

He kept his face turned away, afraid she might see the growing redness on his face, "I'm fine, alright? Stop worrying."

It was Elizabeth's turn to roll her eyes at his masculine response. She may have been kept in captivity all her life, but she could tell when that this man was trying to blow her off. She brought her delicate hand to his face and brought him to look at her. It proved to be a more difficult task than she assumed, for he fought her gesture and tried to keep his face turned away. He finally turned to her and gave her an irritated expression. She felt slightly hurt, but knew something was bothering him, "What is it, Booker?"

"Will you stop asking?" he responded with an acidic voice.

She flinched slightly at his tone, but she felt the need to comfort him and she brought her scarf back to his forehead to relieve the fever he radiated a little more. But once again, she flinched when he gripped the scarf from her hand and threw it to the side, "Stop, Elizabeth. I just need some air."

Her eyebrows turned into a sad angle and she did her best to hide the upset frown. She leaned over his lap to retrieve the scarf, but he moved faster and he pushed the scarf further away from her grasp. The sudden blocking of his arm caused her to stumble and she fell into his lap. Her expression turned into a confused one when she felt something pushing into her stomach.

Booker held back a moan when she rubbed against his most sensitive part and he tried quickly to get her off his lap, but she didn't move for a while. Shame quickly washed over him when she lifted herself slightly and looked at what was pressing into her abdomen. She gasped slightly when she saw a bulge in his trousers. He urgently tried to get her off of him to try to recover from the sudden embarrassment, but she just pushed his hands away and stayed bent over him.

Elizabeth had studied anatomy in her books, and she most certainly knew what made a man different from a woman. She knew that what she was looking at was part of him that she had never seen on anyone before. Granted, the only body she had every known was her own, but she knew what a man looked like from illustrations in her books. She never knew why those books were in her library, but she would remember studying the pictures with curiosity for hours and wondered why men were shaped in such a way.

She looked into his eyes with surprise and slight embarrassment, "Is something the matter, Booker?" she asked quietly as her eyes gestured towards his manhood.

Blush quickly rose to his cheeks by her forward question, "I think you should get off me Elizabeth."

He tried moving, but she placed her hands on his thighs to keep him still, "Are you hurt?"

Booker couldn't stop the abrupt laugh that escaped his lungs, "Quite the opposite."

Her face turned into one of deep thought as her gaze went back to his lower half. He felt the need to push her off, but she was truly ignorant to what his body was doing. The knowledge of her inexperience and curiosity shamefully excited him that much more.

Before he could contemplate how to get out of this situation, a throaty moan escaped his lips when she gently rubbed her hand on the center of his trousers. Her eyes shot up at his face when she heard his pleasured noise, but she took it as something else, "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

He shook his head in a sporadic motion, but she understood his movement. She moved her sight to her hand on him and started to rub against him a little harder. Another moan came from his mouth and she used this as a guide on what to do with her hand. She gently dragged her short nails against the clothed length of him, and this caused him to intake a quick breath of pleasure and grip onto her hand.

"E-Elizabeth," he breathed, "We shouldn't…we shouldn't do this."

Her eyes showed concern, "Do what?"

He looked into those blue orbs and saw that she was truly unaware of what erotic act she was playing with him. But he could see the eagerness and hope to go on in her gaze, and oh God, he wanted her to go on. "Elizabeth, what you're doing is…wrong. You should only do this with the man you love and are married to. We cannot do this."

Those eyes he was looking into flickered a quick flash of hurt, but they instantly went back to the look of curiosity, "Does this feel good, Booker?" she questioned when she cupped the bulge in his pants with her hand.

His head flew back and leaned against the caramel colored wooden wall. The way she was toying with him was cruel, he thought. How could he refuse her when she teased him so well? He licked his lips and shut his eyes, "Very good."

Elizabeth leaned towards his ear and whispered so softly, "Then let me make you feel good, Booker."

That was it. His walls were demolished and he couldn't fight this battle any longer. He let go of her hand and let her go to work on him. He slumped against the wall and did his best relax, but it was quite difficult when you had a beautiful woman pleasuring you. His breath became erratic and turned into pants when she started to rub him hard and grasp him in her small hand.

Elizabeth watched his expression contour into one of immense pleasure and she felt a pride she never felt before. She knew that what she was doing to him was quite taboo, but she wanted him to feel good and let him know that she didn't believe him to be a bad man. She wanted to please him and give him what she felt could help restore his confidence in himself.

After a while of rubbing, she grew curious of what he would feel like in her hand. But truly in her hand. Not through the thick material of his trousers, but what his skin and the part of him she had never seen in real life would feel like in her grasp. She looked up to his face and smiled at his elated expression. His eyes were closed and he was murmuring something between groans and quick intakes of breath.

Very sneakily, she unbuttoned the top silver button of his trousers, then the second and third. Soon all the buttons were undone and she snaked her hand inside. She gasped aloud when she felt how large and stiff he was.

Booker quickly opened his eyes and looked into hers. Her eyes were wide and her mouth in a small 'o' shape. He could feel all his blood in his groins at the skin to skin contact with her hand and his member, and he quickly grew anxious at her sudden halted movements. He was on cloud nine, but he was nervous that she was offended by the contact and that she might want to stop.

"Elizabeth, you don't have to you," he spoke in a hushed voice, secretly hoping that she wouldn't want to stop because the sensation she was making him feel was something to be treasured and he wanted more of her touch.

"No, it's not that," she said as her surprised expression turned into one of modesty, "I just didn't expect you to be so _big_."

Booker had the sudden urge to laugh at her comment, but he knew that she had never done anything like this before, so she didn't know at all what to expect. "You know, that's actually a compliment to men."

Her eyebrows raised in interest, "Really? Why is that?"

He wanted to beg her to start up with the movements, but he didn't want to scare her, so he took deep breaths and answered her question, "It's believed that the bigger a man is, the greater you can pleasure a woman. Therefore, the more you are desired and envied by other men."

Elizabeth bit her bottom lip and wrapped her fingers around his length, "You must be envied by every man that walks the land, Booker."

This time, he couldn't hold back the laughter, but it quickly stopped when she started to stroke him. Louder moans and heavier pants started, his eyes squeezed shut and his head pressed into the wall behind him. He started moving his hips in rhythm with her hand, and the more he groaned, the faster and tighter she went.

The look on his face only pleased Elizabeth that much more and she felt like the most accomplished woman that there ever was. She leaned to him and kissed the tight cord of his neck. She wasn't sure what she was doing, but her instincts told her to press her lips to his skin, and from the sweet moan he gave, her instincts were right. She laid soft kisses on his neck and led them up to his jaw. She licked his skin slightly and rubbed her cheek against the stubble on his chin and jaw. She moved her lips to his ear and kissed his earlobe.

"Booker," she whispered so softly into his ear, not once stopping the fast movements of her hand.

Booker's eyes shot open at her silky voice. The way she said his name made him want to cry. Not because he was sad, but because her voice offered so much love and affection. No one had ever said his name so sincerely to him before. He hooked his finger under her chin and turned her face to his. He stared into her eyes with quiet intensity. The feeling coming from his boiling groins was clouding his senses, but before he went over the edge, he needed to taste her. Taste her mouth, lips, tongue. Her.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers firmly but gently. She gasped a little but quickly responded back to his kiss and did her best to translate adoration and tenderness through the kiss. She could sense that he was kissing her with a devotion she had never felt before, and a passion that she was sure she would never feel from anyone else.

She tasted like strawberries. Like the ones that grew on the sides of dirt roads that automobiles now traveled on in California. He devoured her mouth like it was the last offered glass of water on this earth and he was the last man to receive it. He asked for entrance with his tongue, and after a moment of hesitation, she opened her mouth to him and consumed her. He licked at every part of her mouth and danced tongues with her. She was tentative at first, but she quickly got the hang of it and kissed him back with as much passion as she was receiving.

Booker could feel the tightness in his stomach ready to explode, but he was quickly nervous to finish. She wasn't aware of the result this would end in. He was afraid she would be disgusted by his evidence of pleasure and orgasm, but the way she stroked him… He couldn't hold on any longer. He pulled away from the kiss and hissed through his clenched teeth as he ejaculated into her hand.

To his surprise, she continued to pump him with her hand and she swallowed up his pleasured cries with an inviting kiss. As he rode his orgasm in her hand, he could feel his body slowly coming back to the ground. He kissed her back and sighed into her kiss.

Elizabeth pulled back and smiled at him with a sensual countenance she wasn't aware she could have. She kissed the tip of his nose and slowly pulled her hand out of his trousers. She looked at the milky substance on her fingers and palm with inquisitive eyes.

Booker grabbed for her discarded scarf and started to wipe her hand clean, "Uh, sorry."

She bit her lip again, "You don't need to apologize. I'm guessing that means it felt good?"

He chuckled softly as he finished cleaning her small hand, "Good doesn't even begin to describe what it felt like. You know that feeling you have when you take a hot bath and your body just relaxes, your bones unwind, and the muscles in your shoulders unknot?"

She nodded as she buttoned his trousers for him, "Yes. It's one of the best feelings."

"Well," he started with a heavy sigh, "It's kind of like that but a hundred times better. But that's the best it ever felt."

"Really?" she asked with gleaming eyes and a wide smile.

He nodded lazily in response, "Really."

He stood up, even though his knees felt weak, and he pulled her up too. Before he could say a word, Elizabeth jumped up a little and wrapped her arms around his neck, brought him down to her level and she kissed him tenderly. After he gained his balance, he hugged her to him and graciously returned the affection in the kiss. She broke the kiss and nuzzled her face in the nook of his neck. Right then, Booker knew he couldn't take her to New York and he no longer could use her as a payment to rid his debt. He needed to protect her and make sure no one could ever get to her. He loved this girl in his arms and he wanted to make her his. He loved Elizabeth and he knew she felt the same way for him.

She pulled back and gazed into his eyes, penetrating them with blue. She searched for any sort of hesitancy or discomfort, but found none. "Mr. DeWitt?"

His eyes narrowed at the formal name, "Elizabeth…" he warned her silently.

She giggled softly and tapped the tip of her forefinger on his nose, "Booker, I love you."

He cursed himself for having the sudden urge to cry again. He was grown man for goodness sake! He ran his fingers through her loose ponytail and rested his forehead on hers, "I love you too, Elizabeth."

She let out an elated sigh and a beaming smile, "To Paris with love?" she asked sweetly.

Booker knew that it wasn't going to be an easy journey to the romantic destination, but for her, he would fight and protect her as much as he could. And he would die protecting this woman. "To Paris."

**Author's note:** _Alright, so I know that he didn't change his mind until later, but it just fit well with the moment. I hope you all enjoyed! Please review, comment, favorite, all the jazzy stuff!_

_Someday (when? I do not know.) I'd like to write an actual story with chapters for Booker and Elizabeth, but I don't know when that'll happen or how it'll turn out. So I can't promise anything. Thanks for reading!_

_-Sarai_


	2. Here Without You

Chapter 2: Here Without You

**Author's note: **_Sooo, this story was meant to be a one-shot, but I had gotten really amazing reviews and I wanted to write a little more for you all. I had gotten requests to show Booker reciprocating the love and pleasure to Elizabeth, so here it is! I suppose we can call this story a smut, but this chapter doesn't have much sex in it. It's just kind of a filler. And when the sexual stuff comes in, I'll do my best to make it tasteful. This chapter is showing where Booker is after the events of Infinite, with slight embellishing. This is still AU, because…well I don't think I need to explain!_

_Thank you all for your amazing reviews and comments, it means a lot. And thanks for favoriting and encouraging me to write more!_

_sotrajan__: IG had to know the chemistry these two felt and decided to screw us over with the relation… But that's why there's FF, right? So we can still choose to believe they're not related and fantasize about them. :P  
__edboy4926__: Thank you very much, hope you like it!  
__xxRequiemxx__: BI was really great. I've never played any other Bioshock game, but playing Infinite makes me want to play the earlier ones. I was so confused and let down by that little curveball of their relation. :P Thank you!  
Anonymous: Thank you! I hope the interaction was written better, or that this is a good replacer for those stories that don't have enough. I will write Booker introducing Elizabeth to these new feelings next. Hope you enjoy. :)  
__DragonRyuuji__: Aw, thank you so much! I will always ship them no matter what the game says... :P I'm really glad that you liked it and I hope you like the continuation. :)  
Lone Reaper-068: Thanks, it's hard not to ship these two. :P I hope the continuation will suffice!_

_-Sarai_

* * *

The only sound the filled the small hotel room was breathing and sleepy sighs. Booker lay on his queen sized bed, partially resting against the bed frame, with a small woman resting on him. He ran his fingers through her dark hair and he couldn't hold back the heavy sigh that followed. Her face was hidden under the mass of dark brown curls; her naked body was mostly bare except for from her hips down, they were covered by the cream colored sheets.

"I'm not much of one for silence, Mr. Dewitt," the woman laying on him spoke with a thick French accent.

"I'm not much of one for talking," he retorted with an irritated voice.

The burnet woman sat up, brushed her curly hair over her shoulder and gave him an annoyed look. She arched her back to stretch, but really it was just to push her chest forward and try to turn him on. She crawled on to him and straddled his hips. She leaned in and kissed his lips lustfully, but Booker just pushed her back after a second.

"Oh, I see," she grumbled, "When I want something, you don't want to give. Is that it?"

"I'm not in the mood, Gabrielle," he said as he brought the sheets to cover her up.

Gabrielle grasped his jaw and forced him to look at her, "Well, I am." She kissed him again, and when he tried to push her away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and locked him in place. He made a frustrated scoff sound and let his hands fall limp by her sides. She let out a growl of aggravation, "What _will_ get you in the mood then, huh?"

He ignored her question and tried to push her off, but she kept swatting his hands away and tightening her grip around his neck. "You can call me Elizabeth again," she said.

He stopped with the pushing and fighting, and gave her a sad look mixed with bothersome. "I told you I'm not in the mood."

She brought her lips to his neck and kissed him softly, "Please, Mr. Dewitt. Ravage me," she whispered with an imitated American accent. She slipped a hand down his abdomen and to his manhood, "Please."

Booker wanted to push her off, but when she did the stupid accent and touched him there, memories would flood back to him and it was difficult to say no. He closed his eyes and let her kiss his lips. He did his best to imagine it was someone else's lips pressing against his, some one else's hand playing with him, someone else's center welcoming him in. But when he tried to imagine that someone else, it made him want jump off a cliff and pray that he'll meet her in the afterlife.

Gabrielle moved her hips atop his and moaned into his ear. She hated when she had to pull the 'Elizabeth' card to get him in the mood, but relentlessly, it always worked. She shouted his name as she hit her climax and took in his orgasm, and she liked to think he was thinking about her. But deep down, she knew he was thinking of the one girl that always occupied his mind.

As she rode out her and his orgasm, she felt the empty feeling she always got after sex with Booker. He never offered love or affection, just sex. She got off his lap and reached for the pack of cigarettes on the night stand next to the bed they lay on. She lit one when she brought it to her lips with a swipe of a match and a hot flame.

"If you keep going on the way do, you'll never get over her," she muttered as she breathed out a lungful of smoke.

Booker growled under his breath as he stood and retrieved his trousers, "I don't want to get over her."

The air filled with cigarette smoke as Gabrielle pulled long drags from the cigarette and blew it out in small clouds. She watched him button his pants and reach for his shirt, "Are you ever going to tell me about her?"

He glared at her with a high level of anger. She knew he never wanted to talk about _her_. All he ever told her was that she was a young woman and that she was gone now. When they had first made love, or rather just had sex, he shouted her name as he came. At first, she thought that it was slightly kinky, but the more nights they spent together, she realized the sorrow he was in. It grew to be sad and more times than not, she felt guilty when she pretended to be this young girl who was so important to him.

Booker had come to Paris two months ago, and when Gabrielle first laid eyes on him, she knew he was a man of secrets and also one filled with torment. She was looking for a new plaything at the time, because the one she had before had just gone back to Spain, and she needed one to pleasure her in ways that her deadbeat husband didn't. She could have just dropped Booker when she realized he was still hung up over this Elizabeth, but she felt the need to fill his sorrow, even if it was just with sex. But now that wasn't doing anything for him, and what was left was a man of crudeness and grief.

"Oh, come on, Booker," she said as pulled the cigarette out of her mouth, "Tell us about this little Elizabeth. Was she your little fuck toy that got away or did she actually mean something to you? Hmm?"

"Don't talk about her like that," he hissed at her, "She was more than you can ever imagine of being."

A harsh laugh came from her, "And now she's gone, isn't she? Not coming back to the ever swooning Booker Dewitt."

He had the sudden urge to throw her out of the hotel room and maybe even slap her around, but he controlled his anger to a certain degree, "Get out."

She rolled her eyes and put out the cigarette in the ash tray, "My pleasure." She rose from the bed and grabbed all her clothing. After dressing, she fixed her hair to a neat bun and strode over to Booker. "I pity you, Mr. Dewitt. You're stuck on a girl that is never coming back to you. She's probably living her life like every young girl should, and not with some middle aged man obsessing over her. You're here without her and she probably couldn't be happier."

As she was about to turn away, Booker spoke aloud, "Quite the hypocrite you are, Gabrielle. You hunt down men to fill that part of you that your husband never wants to go near. I only noticed you because of your dark hair and pale skin, nothing else. I may not have what I want, but you do and yet you'll never be happy. Now go off and find your next prey."

Her only retort was a glare dripping with hatred. She left then and Booker was left alone in the silence of his hotel room. He slipped on his vest and dug his hand into the breast pocket. After grasping what he was looking for, he pulled out the blue ribbon and ran it through his fingers and held onto it tightly. He sat down on the bed and sighed sadly. "Elizabeth," he whispered as he brought the ribbon to his cheek.

When he was separated from Elizabeth, he felt empty and alone. He thought maybe if he went to Paris, he could feel some sort of solitude, but it only made him sink deeper into the pit of desolation and made him realize how alone and unwanted he was. He tried thinking where she was. Hoping that she was happy and in peace. But all he could think about was that she was gone and he was left here without her.

He wanted her back so bad. To kiss her again, to feel her hands on him, laughing sweetly. He missed her occasional yawning, how she'd always help him when in need. Whether it was finding salts, money, medical kits, or when she touched him that one time that was only meant for lovers. He supposed they were sort of lovers, except that he never got the chance to reciprocate his affection for her. He felt selfish to let her pleasure him, but never doing the same for her. How he wished he could have shown the gratitude and attraction he felt for her. If only he could have her back.

He folded the silk ribbon carefully and slipped it back in this left breast pocket. He could see from the lone window outside that it was the early evening, maybe around 6 pm. He slipped his jacket on and headed for the door. The setting sunset hit his face with its exiting rays, and slowly left over the horizon. He headed for the bar across the cobble stone street and once inside, he ordered a gin and tonic.

He took a gulp of the alcohol and grimaced at the burning sensation it gave his throat. It was a feeling he had grown to know well and even appreciated. He continued to drink slowly for two hours, and when the bar started to really fill up, he took his refilled drink and left to go to the veranda outside. It overlooked the shining lights of Paris and gave it a look of beauty that you would think could only be captured in words or paintings. It was beautiful, and he knew Elizabeth would have loved it.

He took a big gulp when his brooding thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. He rolled his eyes and thought how a woman can be so persistent. He turned and sure enough, Gabrielle stood in front of him with a predator-like grin.

"Good evening, Mr. Dewitt," she greeted him.

He shifted his gaze back to the view of Paris, "What do you want?"

"Oooh, touchy," she declared with a satisfied smile, "I wanted to see how the ole American was. So how are you? Drinking away the sorrows filling your soul, Booker?"

"I was actually drinking away the regret I felt for you, Gabrielle."

She rolled her eyes and tugged him along to a table in the corner of the veranda. He followed but she could feel the glare he was giving to the back of her head. She pushed him into one of the chairs and took a seat across from him, "Your words do not hurt me."

"No, they just piss you off," he muttered into the glass he was drinking out of.

To that she let out an amused chuckle, "You are correct. So tell me, what are you drinking away besides the regret?"

He set his glass down on the table between them, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, "A man can't just drink when he wants to?"

"Not the kind of man that you are," she said with a shake of her head, "Why don't you just talk about her, huh? I don't care much for your feelings, but I can see that you think of her all the time. Maybe if you speak of her, you will feel better."

Booker shook his head with a tired expression and looked off into the city, "Talking about her will only put me in worse moods."

"I don't think that's possible," she muttered, "Come now, tell me about her. Was she pretty?"

"Beautiful," he whispered.

"What did she talk about? Was she funny? "

He sat up and grabbed his glass again, "She was funny, but she didn't realize she was. She was so young and she didn't know what certain things meant, or how things worked. She was so curious about everything and she always looked for the good things. She always wanted to help too."

Gabrielle listened as he spoke, and she noted how he emphasized on the past tense. "She's sounds wonderful. What happened to her?"

He went silent and suddenly, his glass was empty and offered no sense of escape. He looked off into the distance, but when she asked again, he finally answered, "I don't know…she could be alive, lost…or dead."

"I'd like to think she's out looking for you, Mr. Dewitt," she said softly as she patted his hand.

He rubbed his forehead in frustration, "She won't be. There's no way."

Gabrielle chose not to question what he meant; she could tell from the thoughtful look in his eye that he wouldn't be able to really explain his reasoning. She may have yelled at him earlier and said spiteful words to him, but she didn't like the sad expression he had on. "Do you have anything left of her?"

He said nothing for a minute, but after some thought, he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the blue ribbon that once belonged to her. He held it in his palm for her to see, "All I have is this. It was part of her dress, but she used it to bandage a wound of mine."

She asked with her eyes if she could pick it up and after he nodded, she carefully plucked it out of his hand and studied the small ribbon. She could see on his face that this meant a lot to him and he truly treasured this small piece of fabric. Gabrielle set the ribbon on the table and stood, "Come now Mr. Dewitt."

He looked at the hand she held out and hesitantly took it in his, "Where are we going?"

"I'll be Elizabeth for you tonight," she announced when he stood.

Booker felt a wave of guilt wash over him, "I'm sorry I do that to you. You shouldn't have to be someone else to make me happy."

She shrugged lazily, "It matters not. It's quite exciting actually. Let's have some fun and take your mind off the sorrow you feel right now, yes?"

After a moment, he nodded and followed her to the hotel. As they were about to cross the street, he stopped suddenly, remembering he left the ribbon on the table, "Hold on, Gabrielle, I left the ribbon."

She watched as he strode to the veranda in a hurry and she felt that maybe she shouldn't be doing this to him. By pretending to be the girl he loved, it kept the thought of her alive and prolonged the sorrow he felt. She decided then, even if it hurt him, that she couldn't go to bed with him any longer. It was for his own good.

Booker made it to the table and he nearly threw the outdoor furniture when he found the ribbon missing. He searched frantically for the blue silk fabric, but he didn't see one trace of it. He pretty much ran for the inside of the bar and called for the bartender.

"Do you need a refill?" the older man asked in the French accent everyone else had here.

"There was a ribbon on one of the tables out there, did you see anyone take it?" he asked rapidly.

The bartender's brows furrowed, "A ribbon? What is so important about a ribbon?"

"I need it!" he shouted. He lowered his voice when the people in the bar looked at him in surprise and caution, "I need that ribbon. It's very important to me."

"Calm down man," the older man said with his hands in the air as in defense, "I didn't see anyone take off with a ribbon."

Booker ran a hand through his hair in desperation, "I have to find it."

"Excusez-moi, are you Booker Dewitt?" a man on a barstool asked abruptly.

"Yeah, why?"

The man pointed with a thumb to the door way of the veranda, "Someone was looking for you. I couldn't get a look at their face. They had a beret on and they were as small as a kid or teen. They went to the veranda."

Booker felt his heart stop. Who would be looking for him here? He had no family, no friends. There was one person who might go to the extent to find him in this type of docile way. Elizabeth. He ran for the veranda and sure enough, there was a small figure overlooking Paris with their back to him. He took a few deep breaths and slowly stepped over to the figure. His heart stopped just a moment before and now it was thumping in his ribcage like it was trying to break out. He swore he could hear it pumping when he noticed this figure had dark hair, wearing a white dress with blue strips, and the dark blue beret on their head.

After one large inward deep breath, Booker placed a hand on their shoulder. He nearly fainted when the small woman with the blue ribbon in her hands turned around to look at him.

"Booker!" Elizabeth shouted in cheer. She quickly wrapped her arms around his body and held him tightly, "Oh, Booker, I found you."

Finally realizing what was happening; Booker clutched her to him and bowed over her to hold her closer. His nose burned and his eyes watered, "Elizabeth."

* * *

**Author's note: **_Well, they are reunited. I hope this was a good read and that it was believable for the characters and their actions. That's the hardest thing about writing fanfiction; because you want to make it still seem like the character, but still put your twist on them._

_I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but I'll try to type it up soon. I have my other stories I need to focus on as well. Also, this won't have a climax really, mainly lemons and a resolution. Please comment and tell me how these two should end up together, please! Thanks for everything._

_-Sarai_


	3. Retiring For The Evening

Chapter 3: Retiring For The Evening

**Author's note: **_I said I wasn't sure when the next chapter would be up, but this story is just roaming through my mind and I can't think of any other story; just this one. That's what you get for having an overly active imagination! Not that I'm complaining…_

_So I know I said that the fluffiness would happen in this chapter, but I kinda want to prolong this story. I promise it won't be boring or something, and some fun *wink wink* stuff will happen along the way. It will just happen in paces. Hope you all enjoy!_

_edboy4926__: Thank you! :)  
__HopelessRomantic1818__: Haha, well thanks a million. I'll get to the fluffiness soon, I promise!  
__Lone Reaper-068__: Thanks! I'm glad to hear you like it. :)  
__Steve Urkel__: First off, when I read the signature for the comment, my first thought was, 'Did I do that?' and it was a terrible impersonation. I digress. When I read your review, I wanted to run the streets of my city and make every person read it (preferably aloud). And at every one of your puns, I wished I had a drum set to do the 'budum psh' sound. Thank you so much for your amazing comment! It really motivates me to keep writing, and hopefully one day I can come up with one good storyline for Infinite and write for it.  
__Guest__: Thank you so much! I plan on finishing this, and hopefully it'll be good! :)  
__xxRequiemxx__: That 1999 mode gave me plenty headaches, but admittedly, was quite fun. :) Well, I'm glad that you're continuing to read it. When people rage, it makes it that much more fun to ship this couple. :P  
__bren97122__: It was really sad, but I felt that it was necessary. I really liked the Bioshock story you wrote for Booker and Elizabeth. Very well written and quite funny. :) When you do get around to writing another, I'll be sure to read it! Oh, and I really like that you write Silent Hill fics, too. Not enough SH stories on here, personally._

_-Sarai_

* * *

_They're afraid of you._

Booker was not a man to scare easy, but the girl in his arms made him feel a fear that he had never knew could even exist. He didn't fear her, but rather what she made him feel. She made him feel like if he were to let her go, he would break into a million different pieces and the only way he could be put back together was if she gathered him up and recreated him. She made him feel that it was okay to acknowledge and accept the feelings that were never expressed to him throughout all his life. She made him feel even if it was a miniscule fraction of his lifetime that peace could be found. She made him feel loved.

He thought when he had lost her, he could never go on. But somehow, he did. He did, because deep down he knew that she was still somewhere out there, still alive. And now he knew if he lost her a second time, he wouldn't be able to go on. He couldn't lose her ever again.

"Booker," Elizabeth whispered into his chest as she rubbed his back to signal that she wanted to look up at him. He loosened his grip, but only slightly. He'd be damned if he let her slip away. "Booker, I thought I'd never find you. But then I made it to Paris and on a whim, I came here. No one knew who you were but then I found the ribbon—my ribbon. And I knew you were near. Oh Booker, I've miss you so much."

Booker couldn't say a word. He could feel his nose burn and if he said one word—one syllable, tears would fall. And he couldn't reveal the weakness he felt at that point. Not now. In one swift movement, he scooped his hands under her arms and picked her up. He wrapped his arms around her and held her to him tightly, hiding his face in the nook of her neck.

Elizabeth pet his hair and massaged the nape of his neck, "I'm here," she murmured into his ear. She shushed him softly and hummed a simple melody to him, hoping it'd calm him down a little. She was speaking the truth when she said she came here on a whim. She didn't really expect to find him so soon, let alone in Paris. She had gone through so many tears and so many dimensions, that she was sure she'd never find him. And after what felt like years, maybe even decades, she went through the right tear and miraculously, she found him. She spoke these words aloud and he stayed silent, hiding his face in her neck.

"Booker, say something. What are you feeling?" she requested softly. He shook his head in her neck, and huffed heavily. She tried to get him to look at her, but he refused. He wouldn't move his face, at least not for a while. "What's wrong?" she asked more concerned.

"…can't…talk," he uttered out. He could smell the flowers on her, like he did in the gondola when he had first realized his affection for her and they confessed their love to each other. He could smell the ocean on her, but not nearly as strong as it was that day long ago. He took one long deep breath, and built up the courage to look her in the eye. Her blue eyes were searching his, and his were doing to same. Her hair had grown slightly, now to the middle of her neck and it framed her round face perfectly. Her rosy cheeks and lips were vibrant and beautiful.

Elizabeth could see the redness in his eyes, and she knew it wasn't from alcohol or allergies. She brushed her fingertips on his eyelids and he closed them for her. She leaned in a little and planted a soft kiss on each of his eyelids and placed small pecks on his temples and down the bridge of his nose. A kiss was laid on both corners of his lips, and after what she deemed that to be teasing enough; she pressed her lips to his and ran her hands through his hair. "It's okay to cry," she whispered against his lips.

Booker fought the sob coming up his throat and focused his attentions on her lips. He tasted them, slightly bit them, and ran his tongue along her lower lip. She welcomed him in gladly, but she asked through the kiss for him to be gentle. He was surprised that he could tell just from the movements of her lips what she was asking and thinking. He went slow and tender, never pushing forward or picking up the pace. With any other woman, he would have kissed them ravenously, but with Elizabeth, he wanted to take his time and savor the intimate gesture with her.

After a minute or two, she pulled back first. She licked her lips and smiled lightly, "I can feel eyes on us."

When Booker looked around, he couldn't hold back the nervous chuckle when he saw many eyes staring at the public display of affection. He placed a quick peck on her lips and set her down, but he held onto her hands. "It's France, I'm sure they're used to it."

She giggled softly and looked behind her at the lights of Paris. She switched her hands to hold his and turned around to gaze at the romantic city. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Booker studied the backside of her and admired her small, but curvy figure, "Mhm, very beautiful," he murmured, referring to something, or rather someone else instead. He pressed up against her from behind and pinned her between the fence lining the veranda and his body. Elizabeth gasped slightly at the trap, but said nothing. Booker released her hands and wrapped them around her waist.

"Look," she chimed happily while pointing with her finger to a bright red and white building, "That's the Moulin Rouge. And that, that's the Eiffel Tower. Oh Booker, I've been wanting to see Paris all my life, and now I am!"

"Is it what you imagined?" he inquired, truly curious.

"No," she announced with a firm shake of her head. She bent her head back until she pressed into his chest, she looked up at him and smiled sweetly, "It's better than what I imagined."

He let out a sigh of relief and leaned down to kiss her forehead, "Good."

She brought her gaze back to the shining city and looked on with curious eyes, "What have you been doing since…you know?"

"Uh…" What was he supposed to say? I've been sleeping with women I barely know to help me cope with the loss of you? He was never good at the romantic stuff. "Um…"

"He's been moping around for the past two months he's been in my city," a feminine French accent called out.

Both Elizabeth and Booker turned to the sound of the voice, and while Elizabeth smiled shyly and bowed her head in greeting, Booker wanted to slap himself for forgetting about Gabrielle. But he wasn't too guilty about it; he had his Elizabeth back.

"You must be Elizabeth," Gabrielle assumed with a genuine smile. She held out her hand in a friendly shake.

The American woman grasped her hand tentatively, "Yes, I am. You are?"

"I'm Gabrielle, I am a friend of your dear Booker Dewitt here," she said as she gestured with her eyes to the man in question.

"Oh, well any friend of Booker's must be good," Elizabeth insisted with a wide smile.

Gabrielle held back a snort at her innocence. She looked the young woman up and down, and even though she hated to admit it, she understood why Booker was so hung up on this woman. She was beautiful, but what was most striking was the air around her. There was something so bright about her and she held an animated expression that could make any negative mood lighten. She pulled her hand away and looked to Booker, "I just wanted to come tell you that I had to cancel our plans. I don't know if I'll be able to reschedule."

Booker caught onto the subtle hint she was telling him by her white lie. He nodded softly, choosing not to say a word. Gabrielle pulled Elizabeth to the side, but Booker refused to let her hand go, so she was only two arm's length away as Gabrielle whispered into her ear. Elizabeth had a surprised expression, but she nodded and gave the French woman a kind smile. She returned to Booker's side and gazed up at him. He felt naked under her scrutiny, but he didn't mind it as much as he would with others. Gabrielle bid them good night and left the two on the veranda.

"Could we see the city?" Elizabeth asked, but a yawn followed her question.

"Maybe we should get you to bed," he said with a chuckle, "Come on, I have a hotel room across the street."

She followed as he pulled her along to the quant hotel, and the entire time he had a firm grip on her hand. It was tight, but she didn't mind in the slightest. She admired the building they walked to; it looked like the kind of hotel that imitated American hotels, but it had a friendly charm. They walked to the second floor and Booker unlocked the last door on the level. As he closed the door behind them, Elizabeth couldn't help but notice the one bed.

"Um, Booker, where am I going to sleep?"

"On the bed, of course," he spoke as he gestured towards the queen sized bed.

She arched an eyebrow in question, "But where will you sleep?"

Booker was baffled by her query, but then he felt selfish for his perplexity. Maybe it was quite silly to assume she'd want to sleep in the same bed with him. However, he decided to be honest of his initial intentions, "I thought we could sleep in the bed together."

She turned around and looked at him in surprise, but her brows lowered in realization, "Oh…"

"I can sleep on the floor, though," he insisted quickly.

"Oh, no! We can sleep in the bed together, but…"

He watched as she raised a hand to her mouth and as her eyes showed a thoughtful expression, "What is it, Elizabeth?"

"I-It's just… I don't think I'm ready to…you know. Do you know what I mean?"

It took a minute, but Booker understood her. She wasn't ready for sex, and truly, he wasn't expecting any. He just wanted to lay in the bed with her and hold her while she slept. True, he had thought about her and the act together, but he didn't expect for anything like that to happen right away. But he did want to show his affection for her like she did that one time on the gondola. "I know what you mean, and honestly, I wasn't expecting for us to do anything other than sleep."

A smile of relief grew on her lips, and she headed for the modesty screen in the corner of the room. But before she could take no more than a few steps towards it, Booker stopped her and pulled her back to him, "What's wrong?"

He shook his head gently and caressed her cheek with his right hand, "Nothing's wrong. But, if you're okay with it, I'd like to undress you for the evening."

Blush quickly rose on her round cheeks and she turned her face away to hide the modesty, "Are you sure that's alright?"

"Of course it's alright, Elizabeth," he spoke softly as he pulled her to look at him, "I won't try to make any advance on you, I promise. I just want to undress you is all."

After a moment of quietness, Elizabeth nodded and did her best to relax. Booker led her to the bed and gently pushed her to sit down. Once seated, he lifted her dress slightly to unlace her black leather boots. He slipped one off and went to work on the other. Elizabeth was holding her breath the entire time she watched him take off her boots, and she wasn't sure if she would be alive at the end of this.

"Breathe," he whispered to her, noticing her nervous expression. She let out a heavy breath and was rewarded with a light chuckle from him. He pulled off her small jacket and tossed it to the side of the room. After pulling her to stand up, she turned around for him to unbutton her white striped dress. Her breath hitched in her throat when his fingers traced down her arms as he slipped the sleeves of her dress off. She could feel his breath on her neck and ear, and she felt she could melt to puddle on the floor right then.

Booker pulled off her dress and threw it to her boots and jacket. He began to unlace her corset, and very slowly at that. He was aware he was teasing her, but from the sounds and expressions she was making, he wasn't sure if he could stop or hold himself back. He got the white corset off and it joined her other pieces of apparel. All she was left in was a white silk slip that showed off her shoulders and neck wonderfully. It was cut to just below the knee and stitched in at the waist. He kissed her neck as if telling her she could go to sleep now.

Elizabeth turned around and looked up at him with a shy but hopeful smile, "What about my stockings?"

In all actuality, he wasn't sure if he could pull off her stockings. He was afraid that if he did, he wouldn't be able to control himself and go on to do much more than just that. But that sweet little smile playing on her lips was enough to make any man fall to their knees and beg for mercy. Without him saying a word, she sat back down on the bed, held her left leg out and twirled her foot around. He took a deep breath and bent to remove her stockings.

Elizabeth shivered from the feeling of his touch on her thigh, and her bottom lip was immediately trapped between her teeth. She watched as he slowly pulled the sheer white stocking off her leg and as his hand went for the next one, the same feeling went up her spine and she felt like she was going to pass out.

Booker went faster with the second one, because if he went as slow as he did with the first, he'd surly go over the edge by the feeling of her skin on his fingertips. He picked her up and scooted her to the middle of the bed, covered her with the blankets and made sure it covered her up to her chin. One more look at her body and he'd explode right there. She raised herself on her elbows and watched as he undressed himself. Her lips were once again trapped, her eyes roamed all over him as he stripped to just his underwear, and she swore the temperature was getting hotter. Without looking her in the eyes, he crawled under the blankets and turned off the lamp that offered the only light in the room.

Elizabeth had to shake her head to realize how that all just happened. It was dark, but she felt around and soon found his body. She cuddled up next to him and after a moment of patting and feeling with her hands, she found his cheek and kissed him. "Goodnight, Booker," she whispered in a sleepy voice as she rested her own cheek on his chest.

He gulped hard when her knee brushed up against him _there. _"Goodnight, Elizabeth."

The room fell silent, and Booker assumed she had fallen asleep. That was until she inquired softly, "Did you really call out for me when you were with Gabrielle?"

He looked down at the young woman on his chest and raised his brows in surprise, "Where did you hear that?"

"She whispered it to me. She said that when she was with you, you'd accidently call her Elizabeth. Is that true?"

He couldn't lie to her, even though he was slightly embarrassed by the way it made him come across as clingy. "Yes."

She rested her chin on his chest and squinted up at him through the darkness. She could make out the structures of his face and studied him closely, "I called for you too. All the time. I thought the more I called your name the better chance I had of finding you."

Booker sighed quietly and ran a hand through her hair, "Well, you found me, so I guess it worked."

Elizabeth rested her cheek on his chest again and closed her eyes, ready for sleep. "I guess it did."

* * *

**Author's note: **_I'll admit that I don't like this chapter as much as the ones before, but that's bound to happen. I hope it was a good read and please let me know what you thought. Also, what direction should we make these two go? Should they get married? Have kids? Let me know, please!_

_Again, I'll try to write the next chapter soon, but we'll see. Thanks for all the support! -Sarai_


	4. Be Gentle With Me

Chapter 4: Be Gentle With Me

**Author's note: **_ Did someone order an extra-large, ice cold drink of lemonade?! See what I did there? I'm so lame. Anyways, this is the chapter that starts the reciprocation from Booker to Elizabeth. Are you ready? I hope it's satisfactory enough. :P So I warn you now, this chapter is majorly mature and is meant for those who don't mind that kind of stuff and are prepared for such things. Read on!_

_edboy4926__: I'd like to see them that way too. :)  
__DragonRyuuji__: Awesome! I'm so glad :D  
__bren97122__: I'm such a romanticist. I always root for the happy ending and cuddles :) I remember you saying you're not a fan of lemons, but this one is full of it. So watch out! :)  
__Kelly__: What a compliment! Thanks a million! More coming your way.  
__Lone Reaper-068__: It seems the viewer's know what they want! Thanks. :)  
__Gary Coleman__: Hey Gary, have you met my friend Steve Erkle? :P Might I say your accent is perfect and has just the right about of snootiness like zee Frwench! Age is just a number after all. (*wink wink*) What a perfect scenario you've described for our lovebirds! Fortunately, for my nose and sense of smell, your words are not poison, but very helpful.  
__batlz00__: I'm glad to hear you like it. Until I actually come up with a real storyline, this fic will be fluffy. Hope you enjoy the update. :)  
__Adrift At Sea__: I literally laughed out loud when I read the first line of your comment. Thanks so much for the feedback, means a lot. Enjoy the update. :)  
__Anonymous__: Thanks :) Someone's gotta point out the flaws, and it might as well be me! Enjoy and bye bye now. :)  
__TheBigDewitt__: Your username is just…wonderful. :P I don't know, I just really like it. I'm glad you like it so far. Someday, when I go back and play the game, and notice things I might have missed before, I'll really dedicate to writing a full story with a plot, a climax and a resolution. This one's going to be just a smooth sailing one for now. But I like the way you think. :) I hope this chapter is a good one for the fact that Booker pleases our Lizzie! :)  
__Cattleman__: Thanks so much! More to come and I hope you enjoy. :)  
__alexizg200__: Thanks and enjoy. :)_

_Enjoy the citrus, my friends. -Sarai_

* * *

Stress seemed to be a close friend of Booker's all of his life, but the stress he usually felt was keeping his life intact or paying his past debt. Now, in the early morning in Paris, he woke up to stress when he felt kicking and tugging at his side. First he thought maybe it was a dream or something of that matter, but when he heard the soft cries and mumbled words, he knew it was reality.

Booker shot up into a sitting position when he realized that Elizabeth was the one assaulting him in his sleep. He looked to the small woman beside him and immediately shook her. She was thrashing in her sleep and murmuring something that sounded like 'leave me alone' and 'let me be'.

"Elizabeth," he spoke softly, but when she kept crying he shook her harder and raised his voice, "Elizabeth!"

She stopped twisting in his grasp and finally settled down. After a few seconds, she slowly opened her watery eyes and gave Booker a sheepish smile, "Sorry, bad dream."

Brushing his fingers through her loose hair, he couldn't stop the concerned expression that decorated his face, "Seemed like a pretty bad dream by the way were kicking. Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?"

She sat up slowly, stretching her legs and toes awake, and twisted the sheets into small knots out of a nervous habit, "It's about Songbird… I'm being chased and called after, and I run and run. But I always lose; I get caught and locked up again. I don't have the dream that often. Just when I feel safe for a small moment, I have this nightmare. It scares me so much and it feels so real. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kick you."

"You don't need to apologize," he said quickly in a low voice. He pulled her closer and she rested her head on his shoulder. "I know it's a dream, but I promise Songbird will never get to you. Nothing's going to take you away from me. Do you understand?"

After a moment, she nodded. But the look in her eye was one of uncertainty. He knew that she was still thinking of Songbird, and he meant it when he said that he would never let anyone get her or take her away. He hooked a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him, "Do you understand Elizabeth?"

"I understand," she whispered.

"What was that?" he inquired with a slow smile creeping on his face, "I didn't hear you."

"I understand," she assured him louder.

Booker tackled her to the bed, pinned her down and laid soft kisses all over her face, "Still can't hear you."

"Booker!" Elizabeth called between a fit of giggles as the kisses ticked her skin, "Nothing can get me! Oh, that tickles!"

He started rubbing his stubble on her cheeks and neck, planting a kiss on her nose or temple every so often, "And who's going to protect you?"

"You are."

He started to nibble at her neck and somehow managed to get his legs between hers. Her legs wrapped around his body and she kept fidgeting at the tickling sensation at her neck. "Who?" he asked again.

"You are!" She finally stopped fidgeting and began to warm up to his love bites on her skin. She hadn't realized her legs were rubbing against his back, encouraging him. Elizabeth did her best to fight the blush on her cheeks when she felt a tingling and heat come from the center of her hips.

"Good girl," he said finally. He pushed himself up a bit to get a good look at her. He released her hands from his and slowly he traced her fingers down her arms to her silk covered curves. He brought her into a tender and loving kiss, and after a moment, without thought, his hand found the hem of her slip and started raising the thin fabric. Elizabeth made no move to stop him, so he raised the silk up higher until her undergarments and stomach were bare for the eye to see. She shuddered when he placed his hand flat on her abdomen.

"Booker," she whispered against his lips, making his morning desire for her stronger. Not thinking, he started to grind his hips into hers, putting pressure on their most sensitive areas. Elizabeth couldn't hold back the pleasure moaned that passed her lips as she moved her hips with his. When he pulled away from their kiss to catch his breath, breathing in air made her realize what was happening, "Booker! Booker, I c-can't!"

He stopped with the movements with his hips, "What is it? What did I do wrong?"

She turned her face to the side in embarrassment, "You did nothing wrong. Maybe a little too right… Booker, I'm just not ready. I want to…you know…with you, but I just need some more time until I'm ready. I'm sorry."

Booker sighed in relief, thankful that he didn't make her feel forced in any way, "It's alright, Elizabeth. We'll get to the sex thing later when you're ready."

Rosie red fled to her cheeks in modesty at the intimate word. She had never said the word out loud, but she knew what it meant. She bit at her lip from feeling a particular bulge pressing into her heat, and she was aware of what, or rather who it was. She said no to…sex, but she still wanted to touch him like she did on the gondola that one day. When Booker kissed at her cheek, she turned her face to welcome him in another heated kiss. She could only imagine how she was confusing him right now; saying no to the actual act of love, but wanting to pleasure him. Hell, it confused her to limits she never felt before.

She brought her hand to his hair, traced her fingertips on the nape of his neck, and slid her hand down his chest and into his breeches. Booker gasped at the sudden contact. He pulled away from the kiss once again and brought a hand to hers that was suddenly stroking his length.

"E-Elizabeth, what are you doing?" he uttered out after gathering his thoughts.

"What does it look like," she said with a small grin, "I want to touch you."

Reluctantly, he pulled her hand out of his underwear, "What if I want to touch you first?"

Another look of modesty and contemplation rose to her face, "But Booker, I told you I'm not ready to do…_that._"

"We're not going to do _that_," he mocked her innocent way of saying sex. "I want to touch you. Like how you touch me."

"But isn't that basically, uh, you know?"

He wanted to tease her about her way of avoiding using the word sex, but if there was something he loved about her, it was her quirkiness. "Not really. I mean, it is a form of sex, but it's not like the actual act. It's like what you said to me, it's to make you feel good. And I want to make you feel good, Elizabeth."

Even though her cheeks burned with shyness, her lower region burned even more with excitement. Oh how she wanted to feel his hands on her body; caressing her and making her feel the way she made him feel. She wanted to feel that moment of pleasure the he had, and she wanted him to make her feel that. She leaned up and kissed his lips softly, "Be gentle with me."

Booker felt like he had just won a thousand dollars and a sack full of diamonds by her allowance to please her. This is what he'd wanted to do ever since the day in the gondola. "I'll always be gentle with you. No matter what." He did his best to pace himself as he pulled off her slip and carefully tugged her undergarments off. After being completely undressed, Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her body and covered herself up. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, "Don't hide from me."

Bright blue eyes stared up at him, and after a small moment, they changed into a look of acceptance. Slowly, she unwrapped her arms from her body and placed her hands on his shoulders, ready for his next move. He started his kisses on her lips, and before he went to her neck, he made sure to translate love as best as he could through the kiss. Once showing his love for her on her lips, he lowered his kisses to her neck. Licking at her skin gained at soft moan from her, and he could just imagine the sounds she'd make when he really got to work on her.

Elizabeth gasped when he licked at the top of her breasts and slowly lead his wet kisses lower. She shut her eyes and bit at her lips when she could feel his breath on her hardened nipple. She moaned aloud when he gently kissed her breast. His tongue carefully licked at her areola and lightly bit at her nub. Her hand found the back of his head as she kept him in place, arching her back into his mouth. She could feel him smile against her skin at her eagerness, and right now, she didn't care if he had a smug smirk on. It just felt so good, she didn't want him to move or stop.

Booker made love to her breasts and nipples for a long while, and after many minutes of licking, biting, and moaning, he kissed the valley of her breasts and slowly led kisses to her belly button. She giggled at the sensation of his lips on her navel but couldn't deny the wonderful feeling it gave her skin and nerve endings. Her brows furrowed in confusion when his kisses started to lead even lower down her body. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at him.

"Booker, what are you doing?" she asked with a tilted head.

He held back a chuckle by the tangled mess that was her hair. From squirming around and arching from his kisses, she had tousled her hair so much it looked like a dark brown lion's mane. "I'm going to kiss you."

"But you already did…"

He leaned down and kissed her inner thigh, and was rewarded by a pleasure shake rolling through her body. "I'm going to kiss you," he began his sentence softly. Very slowly, he leaned to her center and placed a gentle kiss on her folds, "Right here."

Elizabeth fell back onto the bed with a loud whimper when he kissed here down there. Her back arched and her breath became rabid as he kissed her heat and licked at her folds and sensitive nub. Her eyes squeezed shut and she gripped onto a tuft of his hair, "Booker! Oh my—don't stop, please!"

At her command, Booker started to eat at her more ravenously. The taste of her was sending him to a state of ecstasy that threatened to keep him there forever; and right now, he wouldn't mind being locked up there for life. He may have been eating at her fervently, but he still managed to be gentle like she had asked. He went at the pace he knew she would want and appreciate, but he still did his own thing to show her the great things about this new way she was feeling. He ran his tongue slowly between her lips, torturing her deliciously. He brought his hand to where his mouth was and very carefully and gently, he slid one finger inside of her.

Instantly, she gripped around him tightly, surprised by the sudden filling. She gasped but she made no move to question him or push him away. She slowly loosened her walls around his finger, and he started to swirl his middle finger inside of her. She gripped at the sheets around her and pretty much shouted out his name. He pushed his finger in a little deeper, but stopped when he felt her maidenhood. He had no intentions of breaking her feminine muscle right now, so he kept himself at bay and pleasured the part of her walls that he could touch. He continued to lick at her nub and pumped his finger in and out of her.

Elizabeth's heart was pounding, her own moans and whimpers played in the air, and her body was slick with a thin sheen of sweat. She could feel in the core of her body a tightness she had never felt before, her body shook slightly and her limbs started to tighten. She didn't know what was happening, but whatever it was, it was happening quickly. She couldn't force herself to stop this sudden feeling, but she trusted Booker enough to know what to do.

The walls around his finger were becoming tight and her thighs were starting to close around his head. Booker went faster with his finger and tongue, as he slid his free hand up her body and kneaded her breast. She pulled at his hair as she screamed his name and her back arched into a perfect angle. He played out her orgasm perfectly; licking her, stroking her sensitive skin, and pulled out of her slowly. Her thighs and clutch on his hair loosened and he was able to lean up.

Booker had never seen a more beautiful sight then what he saw now laying in front of him right now. Elizabeth's body shook slightly and her chest rose up and down with heavy breaths. Her hair was splayed out all around her head in a beautiful dark halo, her milky skin gleamed with light sweat, and her eyelids flickered in dreariness. He leaned back down and licked up all of her sweet juices, making sure she was completely clean. She gasped every time his tongue came in contact with her skin.

"Shh," he sounded as he slowly made his way up to her lips with kisses all over her sensitive body. She was whimpering from the after effects of her first orgasm and her body was finally starting to calm down. He finally made it to her lips, and she was hesitant to kiss him and taste herself on his skin, but she so badly wanted to kiss him. So she pushed the hesitation aside and pulled him to her in a warm, loving kiss. The taste on his lips wasn't that bad actually. Not one she'd expect, but she didn't mind. She was the first one to ask for entrance with her tongue on his lips, and greedily kissed him. Her hands roamed his chest and her legs rubbed his thighs and back.

Booker gasped out loud when Elizabeth flipped him over and straddled him, "Whoa! What was that?" She giggled and ran her forefinger down his naked chest. He gulped hard when she started to pull on the strings of his breeches, "Uh, Elizabeth, what are you doing?"

She pulled off his underwear and now he was as naked when he was on his name day, and even more noticeably, he was as naked as Elizabeth now. His erection was the first thing she noticed and a wicked grin creeped onto her lips, "I'm going to _kiss _you, too."

Before he could say a word, she was lowered down to his manhood and her tongue was licking at his tip. His head flew back into the pillows as she slowly teased and tasted him. If the Gods could curse him for doing such taboo and intimate things with a girl half his age, never had she done anything like this before, and they were out of wedlock, they would curse him to the fiery pits of the underworld. But he didn't worry about it. Because this was a crime he had every intention of repeating with her again and again.

* * *

**Author's note: **_Confession: this is the first story of mine that I've updated as I'm writing it. I usually write more than half or all of a story before I even put up a first chapter. But since Infinite is big right now, I need to keep up with the cool kids and go with the flow. So apologies if I can't update every day or every other day, but I'll do my best!_

_Please show some love by reviewing, sending a favorite and following. I don't get anything from it, but it lets me know you guys like it and want more. Thanks!_

_-Sarai_


	5. The City Of Love

Chapter 5: The City Of Love

**Author's note:** _I wanted to have this up yesterday, but I went brain dead for a while and just couldn't type anything good enough. But now my brain seems to be working fine enough to write the next chapter. Apologies that this one is slightly shorter than the others, but I think it's still good. Also, sorry for any typos, I was trying to type this up quick and probably made a few mistakes. :) Please read on and enjoy!_

_Edboy4926__: Thank you, I'm trying to take my time, but I'm just too eager to write it all.  
__Guest__: Well I'm really glad you read through the lemon. Thanks. Thank God for AU!  
__Lone Reaper-068__: Haha, your wish is my command! Enjoy. :)  
__TheBigDewitt__: Well, it's a great username, especially for thinking it up on the spot! I'm trying to come up with an idea where I can add more hurt/comfort, but all that comes to mind is the comfort. But nonetheless, hope you enjoy the update and thank you for your kind words. :)  
__oh god__: You're welcome and thank you as well. :)  
__musicwolf89__: Thanks, more to come. :)  
__Fanfiction108__: Such a troll move to make them related! But hey, that's why there's fanfiction. :)  
__Dovahkiin Vokun do Skyrim__: The first part of your username is so hard for me to pronounce, that when I say, it sounds like a mating call… More coming your way. :)  
__Adrift At Sea__: Thanks so much for your kind words! I'm so glad that it didn't seem rushed or forced. I do my best to make those kinds of chapters tasteful and it really is a challenge sometimes. Thanks again. :)  
__SpoilerGuest__: If only the game ended and they were never related. Of well, that's why there's AU :)  
__Demonlord99__: Of course I realize this. It's written in AU, so all is alright.  
__bren97122__: Ah, okay, gotcha! Just thought I'd let you know. There are some people on here who absolutely despise lemons. D: Thank you for your words! _

_-Sarai_

* * *

If it was up to Booker, he'd stay in bed all day. Maybe even all week. But after a few hours of 'kissing' and just simply relaxing with one another, Elizabeth had regained her energy and announced she was ready to see the city. So, after pleading a few times to stay in bed, Booker finally gave in and dressed himself properly to be dragged around the city and roam intriguing streets and snooty crowds.

"What do you mean you haven't seen the city?" she interrogated as Booker laced up her corset.

"I just never had the desire to," he admitted.

Once finished with the corset, Elizabeth grabbed for her dress and stepped into it. She turned around for him to button up the backside, which he did. "How could you not want to see Paris? It's so beautiful and romantic."

He smoothed out her dress and turned her around to bring her in his arms, "It's not very romantic when you have no one to see it with."

Elizabeth stood on her tiptoes, but was still too short to reach his lips. Booker chuckled at her frustrated expression, but huffed when she pulled him down suddenly and brought him to her lips. "Well now you do. And we're going to see every part of this city and you will love it," she said against his lips.

Not responding, he started leading her towards the bed, but sneakily, she managed to slip out of his embrace and trot to the door. "Well come on, Mr. Dewitt, let's see Paris!"

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair, "You know to call me—"

"Booker. I know," she said with a wink, "I just wanted to see your face when I called you by your surname. Well come on!"

She opened the door and the sunlight shone upon them. She squealed and started to walk out, while Booker had to squint at the brightness and followed behind her. She grabbed onto his hand and pulled him down the stairs to the cobble street and started making way to the bridge.

"It's going to be a long day," he thought out loud.

Elizabeth looked up at him with an annoyed frown. But after a moment to get over his bored comment, she leaned in closer and motioned with her finger to come closer. He did as she clued and brought his ear to her lips.

"I'll make it up to you tonight," she said with a silky voice and placed a soft kiss on his ear.

Booker stood tall and dragged her along to the nearest attraction. He wanted to get this sightseeing over with so they could get back to the hotel room, into the privacy of four walls and a closed door, and let her make it up to him. It was going to be a long day. Not because he had to walk around this city, but because he would be thinking about tonight for the rest of the day.

* * *

The sun was setting and the night was calling upon the people of Paris. Booker and Elizabeth sat on a blanket that lay on the grass, looking up at the Eiffel tower. While he lay on his back, staring up at the purple, pinkish sky, Elizabeth sat straight up with bright eyes, studying the tall tower. Booker wasn't much for buildings or structures. But since this one wasn't modeled after some hubris leader and neither was it floating, it was quite the majestic build. From where they sat, it looked like the tip of it was touching the sky.

"How long do you think it would take to climb it?" she asked softly.

Booker peaked at the iron tower and thought for a moment, "Maybe a few hours. There are ladders and stairs all over the thing. Can't take that long."

"I'd be too nervous it'd fall over if I made it to the top," Elizabeth wondered aloud.

He chuckled softly and rubbed her back, "I think it would take _many_ people to make that thing fall over. Not a feather like you."

She lay down beside him and rested her head on his arm, "It's beautiful. But it's huge. It frightens me in a way."

He arched a brow at her in question and nodded for her to go on. "It's just something so tall and large makes me feel small and threatened. I know it's just a structure, but I'm intimated by it. Does that make sense?"

"It does," he assured her as he looked up the giant tower in front of them, "But being intimated by it means you appreciate it that much more, right?"

She smiled up at him and nodded happily, "Right. I like the way you think."

After a while longer, Elizabeth asked if he was ready to head back to the motel room. Booker controlled his excitement and agreed that he was ready. He paced himself as he stood and folded the blanket, but he could feel himself urging to go faster and get back to the room in speed, but somehow he went at a normal pace. She smoothed out her skirt and grabbed for his hand, "Thank you for taking me out today."

He leaned over and kissed her hair affectionately, "Anything for you."

"Anything, huh?" she inquired with a small smile. "What if I asked for the biggest, fanciest mansion in France?"

They started to walk away from the majestic tower and headed in the direction for the hotel, "It might take a while, but I'd get it for you."

Elizabeth giggled and wrapped her arm around his, "Such a gentleman. But I think I'd want something small and quant in the farmlands. Things that are so flashy make me nervous to touch anything. I want somewhere that I can break something and not get in trouble for doing so."

"That's good to know," he noted. He did his best to keep his pace, but boy did he want to get back to that hotel room quick. They walked at a good pace for the both of them, but Elizabeth stopped suddenly. Booker looked down at her and found that she had a thoughtful and pleasant expression as she looked off into the distance. He followed her gaze and spotted people cheering outside a church and in the center stood two people, a man and a woman dressed in white. A wedding had just taken place and Elizabeth had a bright smile as she observed the newlyweds.

"I'd have my guests throw breadcrumbs instead of rice," she murmured after a small while of watching. "So that the birds wouldn't choke or hurt themselves eating up the celebration."

"I'd imagine breadcrumbs would be a lot softer for the bride and groom," Booker replied with a slight chuckle.

She offered him a cheerful smile and continued to walk on. The sight left Booker in a state of wonder and anticipation. He wondered what Elizabeth would look like in a white wedding dress and how a ring would fit around her small finger. He wasn't afraid to admit that he wanted to marry this girl, so he could only anticipate her answer when he'd ask and looked forward to married life with her. He looked down at the woman in question as her curious eyes studied every person and every detail.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, breaking his thoughtful silence.

"I was thinking about you actually."

"Oh really?" They made it back to the hotel and walked to their room.

"Uh huh." He closed the door behind them and immediately started to unbutton her dress.

She slipped off the light dress and waited for him to unlace the corset completely, "And in what context were you thinking of me?"

He threw the corset it the side and raised her slip over her head, "It's a secret."

She tugged her boots off before Booker pulled her undergarments down her legs and threw them to the other pieces of clothing. He picked her up and brought her to the bed, "Booker, my stockings."

"We'll leave them on for now," he insisted with a shrug.

* * *

Hot water surrounded them both as Elizabeth and Booker sit in the bathtub, relaxing. Booker lay resting against the back of the tub and she was leaning on him, her back resting on his chest. After drenching a sponge, Elizabeth raised her leg and started to scrub gently at her skin. He combed her damp hair without thought and watched was she cleaned herself. Who would've known such a simple task could be so sensual?

Booker covered his face when she splashed water at him, "Elizabeth!"

"Sorry," she apologized while giggling uncontrollably, "You looked deep in thought and it showed to be a perfect time to shower you."

"Uh huh, sure." He grabbed the sponge from her and had her lean forward. He brought the sponge to her back and gently washed her.

After a moment of silence, "Booker, can I ask you something?" She looked over her shoulder when he said she could, "Do you miss your wife?"

His hand stopped and became still on her back. Her expression was a soft one and he knew she was just curious. "I do."

"What do you miss about her?" she inquired as she carefully turned around to look at him.

_What do I miss about her? _There were many things he missed about his wife, but he didn't know how to list them. Once contemplating for a minute, he spoke in a quiet voice, "I miss when I'd come home from work and she'd call from the kitchen and greet me in the doorway. I miss when she would try to groom me, as much as I hated it. She'd knot my tie in a perfect way, and when she wasn't looking I'd loosen it and ruin it because I didn't like looking perfectly together. And every night before bed, she'd list the things she'd love most about the world. Her list was never too long, but always the last thing she'd say was she loved me most."

Elizabeth grabbed for his hand that rested on the lip of the tub and intertwined her fingers with hers, "She sounds like a wonderful woman."

"She was," Booker whispered, looking into the water as if he was in another time. He turned his gaze up to her after a moment and squeezed her small hand in hers, "What I miss most though is that I had someone with me. Someone to come home to. To hold at night."

She brought her free hand to his cheek and held him there for a moment. She studied the somber features that adorned his face, and felt slight guilt for bringing up such a sad topic. But she also felt a pang of discouragement. She was nervous that maybe he would never be able to allow Elizabeth to be that someone to love and come home to. She'd love so much to be that someone to comfort him.

They finished washing each other in silence and also dried one another off. Elizabeth had gotten used to being naked in front of him, even though she was still slightly shy to walk around freely without clothing. She cuddled up into his side when they gathered under the covers of their bed. The night slumber was coming to comfort them, but before they could fall asleep, Elizabeth raised herself onto her forearm and looked down at his peaceful expression.

"Booker?"

He opened an eye up at her, "Hmm?"

She pushed a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear and turned her head down to hide the nerves she was feeling, "I want to be that someone you come home to. I want you to hold me at night. I want to be with you."

Realizing this was something that took a lot of courage for her to say, Booker brought her to look at him, "I want you to be that someone too, Elizabeth."

She blew a hair that was falling in front of her eyes and smiled, "Oh good. I want to spend my life with you, and I don't want you to think I'm some sort of stalker, because I'm not. I mean I love you, but I promise I won't be stuck to your side the entire time—"

He pushed a finger against her lips to signal to her to slow down. She closed her mouth and gave him a nervous smile, "Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," he said when he pulled his hand away, "If anything, I'll come off as the stalker. I'm pursuing a woman far too young for me."

"You are kind of old," she said with friendly sarcasm.

Feeling better that she was just joking with him, he went on, "Elizabeth, I'm not very good at this stuff, but I want to ask you to be my wife."

A smile grew on her face that brightened up the entirety of the room, if not all of Paris, "Of course I'll be your wife! Of course!"

He couldn't hold back the laugh as she wiggled around on the bed. A big huff of air came from his lungs when she bounced on top of him. She leaned down to him and pulled him into a tender, passionate kiss. "I can't wait! Oh, it's going to be wonderful. Married life and kids and grandkids—"

"Whoa, calm down," he insisted when she stared to babble, "Let's take it one step at a time, yeah? First wedding, then so on."

"Can we get married here in Paris?"

His brows furrowed in a playful manner, "I was thinking we'd get married in the desert."

She stuck her tongue out at him and crawled off him. "I'd turn into a maniac bride if we married in the desert. When shall we do this event, my dear soon-to-be husband?"

"Sooner than later," he announced. He could feel the need for sleep coming back to him as she snuggled against him.

Before they fell asleep, she leaned to his cheek and pecked him softly, "I love you, Booker."

He wrapped his arm around her and held her close, "I love you too, Elizabeth."

* * *

**Author's note:** _Oh, sweet moment for our lovely couple. :) Hope you all enjoyed. Please review, favorite, follow, and whatever else there is. I'll talk to you guys soon. Enjoy your weekend!_

_-Sarai_


	6. Americans In Love

Chapter 6: Americans In Love

**Author's note: **_I was playing some of Infinite today and while doing so, I realized who Elizabeth and Booker reminded me of. Elizabeth reminds me of Rapunzel from 'Tangled' and Booker reminds me of Flynn Ryder. Elizabeth's 'floating lanterns' is Paris, and Booker has debt that he needs to clear like Flynn (though Flynn is an outright thief). Maybe I watch too much Disney, but it doesn't matter. I'll be watching 'Beauty & The Beast' when I'm fifty._

_edboy4926__: Thanks :)  
__Fanfiction180__: I'm just focusing on Booker and Elizabeth. Involving possible events of Infinite 2 kinda scares me, because I'm afraid I'd do a terrible job, but it would be pretty fun. Thanks so much :)  
__TheBigDewitt__: Marriage scares me too. But considering the time that this is set in and the traditional relationships back then, marriage would happen fairly quickly I think. Thanks a lot :)  
__Lone Reaper-068__: Me too! More coming your way :)  
__bren97122__: Why of course you are invited! Your story is fabulous!  
__Cattleman__: I had to take into consideration the time period they're in, and I just imagine that marriage comes quick. Thanks so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it :)  
__Dovahkiin Vokun do Skyrim:__ Thanks so much! :)  
__i. love. pie. alot: I love your username! Thanks so much :) More coming your way.  
__Flatfoot88__: Us romanticists must stick together. Glad to hear you like it, and I think most of us were pretty upset about the unveiling of their blood relation.  
__Alyx__: Here's more for you :)_

_-Sarai_

* * *

Booker was never a heavy sleeper, but for the past few days, he could sleep the night through without nightmares making appearances or random moments of restlessness. He could sleep soundly and through the noisy people outside on the streets speaking a language he couldn't. It was the kind of morning that he was coming to know wonderfully and appreciated it with great value. He rolled over and anticipated feeling her skin. But when he realized all he was touching was sheets, he sat up in a hurry and looked to the empty space on the bed.

"Elizabeth," he called out, hoping she might come from the small wash room or from behind the modesty screen. When no answer came, he threw the blankets off and stood quickly. He looked in the wash room to find it empty and no one behind the modesty screen. However, he did notice her corset hung over the partition. He started tearing the place apart to find no answer about her whereabouts. Booker was searching though the dresser when he heard the door open and immediately he turned to see who had entered his room.

Elizabeth was walking into the room backwards as she was waving and talking to someone on the street, "Merci beaucop!" She turned around and gasped loudly when she saw a very disgruntled Booker. She shut the door instantly and looked him up and down, "Uh, Booker, you're…"

He tilted his head to the side like a curious dog and once realizing she was gesturing at his body, he looked down and quickly grabbed for blankets to cover his naked physique. He knotted a sheet around his hips and walked to her. He noticed she had a bouquet of many different flowers of many different colors. She set the flowers in the chair by the door and met him halfway. Elizabeth tried to kiss him but he held her still.

"What's wrong?" she asked with worried eyes.

He looked her over carefully, making sure it was her. She wore her white dress that had blue stripes and her hair was pushed out of her face with a familiar blue ribbon. She looked up at him with those bright blue eyes and her lips slightly parted. After looking her over, he was sure it was her and she hadn't disappeared.

"I didn't know where you were," he spoke softly, stroking her cheek. "I thought you left or…"

She placed the tips of her fingers on his lips to shush him, "I didn't go anywhere. I would never leave you."

He sighed in relief and let her kiss him. Her full lips pressed against his and it reminded him of the day on the gondola, when she had said his name and nearly made him cry. He had pulled her into a kiss and that's when he knew he loved this woman. The reminder made him want to take her to the nearest chapel, say vows, seal the deal with a kiss and live happily ever after. But there were things that needed to be prepared before that happened.

After sitting on the bed, Booker pulled her to sit in his lap. Elizabeth raised her dress slightly and brought her knee to the side of his hip and did the same with her other knee. He pulled her to him as she cuddled into his lap and captured his lips with hers in a kiss.

Something about this kiss made the world stop. It made the axis become still and it all could be blamed on two people kissing in a hotel room, in Paris. This kiss was not like the ones that were before. It was like all the kisses they shared had led up to this particular one. It held a certainty of love and also patience. Nothing was rushed about it; nothing about it was hurried or hungry. It was slow and kind, dedicated and meaningful.

Elizabeth pulled away, but very slowly. She placed a long kiss on his lips, and then smaller and shorter pecks as time went on. She finally opened her eyes to see him with his still closed. She rested her forehead against his and sighed happily, "It's always going to be like this, right?"

"I'll be damned if it's not," he claimed with his eyes still shut.

She laughed softly, kissing his forehead while running her fingers through his messy bed hair. They stayed like this for a long while, just holding each other and kissing once in a while. After nearly an hour, Booker spoke first, "Where did you get the flowers?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened in reminder and stood quickly. She grabbed for the flowers and went to the bathroom, "A man selling them on a cart outside gave them to me. I felt bad not paying, but he said I was the most tolerable American he met and gave them to me for free. I swear there was vase under this sink."

The next minute, she walked out with the flowers displayed beautifully in the glass vase filled with water. She placed it on the nightstand and admired her interior design skills for a small moment before taking off her small jacket, "I also saw Gabrielle."

Booker had to think a minute before he realized who Gabrielle was. He felt slightly guilty for forgetting the woman who had kept him company for the past two months, "Oh yeah, what did she say?"

"She said that she was glad someone was around to keep you company," Elizabeth said with a small smile. He, however, rolled his eyes. "Do you notice if you ask her about herself, she shies away from the topic?"

One minute, Booker felt guilty, now he felt selfish. He had never asked her about her life or past, just slept with her. The relationship was purely sex. She tried asking about his life, but he refused to give her insights or conversation.

Elizabeth noticed his silence, but went on anyway, "I asked her about her husband, but she just skirted around it. Do you know why they have a troubled relationship?"

He shook his head. "I never asked."

"I wonder what it is," she murmured with a finger on her chin. "Anyways, when I told her that we were planning to get married sometime—I didn't tell her when—she asked if she could take me to get fitted for my dress. Do you mind if I go?"

He lay back on the bed with a huff of air, "You don't have to ask, Elizabeth. Just promise me you'll be careful."

"Only for you," she whispered to him as she crawled onto the bed to lay next to him, "Thank you."

He rolled on top of her and kissed at her neck, all the while she giggled at his scruff tickling her skin. He ran his hand up her side and felt the warmth of her skin on his hand. He could feel the shape of her and the curves that made him want her. "Why didn't you wear your corset?"

"It's too hard to put on myself," she admitted as she rubbed his back, "And it feels nicer with it off."

"It sure does," he murmured against her neck as he rubbed both hands on her sides and abdomen. He trailed his hand up to her breast and could feel the softness of it, and gained heavy pleasured moan from Elizabeth. He brought his lips to hers and spoke against her mouth, "When are you going out with Gabrielle?"

She started kicking her boots off, "Not for another hour."

He started pulling her dress off and other garments she wore, "That's long enough."

* * *

"How did you and Booker meet?" Gabrielle inquired when she peaked over the woman's fashion magazine she held in her hands.

If this woman measuring Elizabeth pricked her one more time with a needle, she'd deflate. "Uh, one day I had gotten lost and he helped me around." Elizabeth was disappointed with herself that she lied, but she couldn't just tell her how they met. She'd have to tell her about Columbia and how she could open things called tears. So, even though it was wrong, she lied and described their relationship in a simpler matter.

"Mm," Gabrielle hummed, obviously not buying into her lies, but she really didn't care about how they really met. "The man boy is madly in love with you, you know that?"

Elizabeth stood like da Vinci's 'Vitruvian Man' painting as the seamstress held fabrics up, pinning them with sewing needles, "Yes, and I'm deeply in love with him."

The French woman held back a gag, but she had to admire this young girl's romantic and optimistic personality. She threw the magazine to the side and scrutinized the pincushion that Elizabeth had become. "It is very simple. Is this what you wanted?" she inquired, referring to the dress in the making.

Once looking down, a bright smile grew on Elizabeth's, "It's perfect. If I wear something big and with lots of ruffles, I'll get lost in the fabric."

Gabrielle and seamstress laughed in unison. "Américains," Gabrielle said with a wave of the hand.

The seamstress took the dress off carefully and brought it to mannequin for further alterations before she could sew it up and hand it over. The small woman looked to Elizabeth and thought for a small minute, her eyes squinting in thought, "Eh, un jour?"

"Parfait! Merci beaucop," Elizabeth spoke with a happy smile confirming one day was fine for the dress to be sewn. The woman nodded in appreciation that she could understand her and speak French. After dressing, Elizabeth walked out of the shop with Gabrielle on her side and the two walked in the direction of the hotel. She looked to the older woman and prepared herself to ask her a question, "Gabrielle, how did you and your husband meet?"

Anyone could see Gabrielle stiffen at the question, but she gave the young woman a tight smile, "It was quite a while ago." She gestured to a small café on the side of the road and walked for a table on the portico out front. Elizabeth nodded and the two took a seat, ordering some tea when the waiter came by.

"My marriage was an arranged one," she started, "You see, my father owned a vineyard and he wanted to make a business with his wine. There was company that could help him and make him rich, but he didn't have enough money to strike a deal with the higher ups of this company. The man that owned the company had a son that was yet to be married, so he told my father if his daughter—me—married his son, then he would purchase his wine and sponsor him."

When the tea came, Gabrielle stared into the lemon flavored hot beverage as if she was in another time. "Louis and I were married right away. At first it was very awkward and we didn't know what to do with one another. I was only 16 at the time and he was 23. After a few years, we started to get used to each other's presence and actually appreciated it. We tried for a baby, but it took many years to become pregnant. When I finally was with child, we both couldn't be happier. But, as luck would have it, 5 months into maternity, I miscarried."

Instead of saying words, Elizabeth leaned over the small table and placed her hand atop Gabrielle's. The French woman forced a smile, but Elizabeth could see sadness in her eyes.

"After that, we just couldn't look at each other. He buried himself in work and I was left alone to deal with the grief of our deceased child. Now we barely talk, let alone see each other."

Elizabeth sat back in her chair and brought her teacup to her lips. She watched the people on the street pass by and wondered what I'd be like to lose a child. She had to applaud Gabrielle for coping with it. If she were to lose her own, she'd wasn't sure what she'd do. How would Booker deal with it?

"I'm sorry you went through that, Gabrielle," she said softly, "I know you don't want pity, but I just wanted you to know that I look up to you for making it through something like that."

The older woman eyed her carefully, looking for some sort of sarcasm or deceit, but she found genuine kindness. "Américains," she muttered under her breath, but she offered a gentle smile, "Thank you."

After a few minutes of small talk, the two women finished their tea and Gabrielle tossed one franc on the table. As they were walking down the cobble street, a man of blonde hair and bright blue eyes began to wave at Gabrielle. She waved back with a small move of her hand and smiled. She turned to Elizabeth and held her hand in her own, "He's from Sweden. He's not the most patient. You have a lovely day, my dear. You know how to get back to your hotel, yes?"

"I do," Elizabeth said with a nod, "Thank you for today."

She smiled and started to walk to the Swedish man. Before she was half way to him, she turned to the young woman and spoke loud enough for her to hear, "I paid for your dress, by the way. Well, more my husband did."

Elizabeth's eyes went wide with surprise, "Oh no, I can't let you pay for it!"

Gabrielle shook her head with a roll of her eyes, "Yes you can. Think of it as a wedding gift. Jusqu'à prochaine fois, soon to be Mrs. Booker Dewitt."

Elizabeth giggled and waved her goodbye. She walked at a leisurely pace as she made way for the hotel, but stopped just a few feet from her current residence. A young boy was selling newspapers and shouting, "Austria-Hungary declares war on Serbia!" He shouted many other things that Elizabeth wasn't very interested in.

She had read a lot about wars in her books, and she knew that even though a country that wasn't involved would be all over it. Especially since she was in France and Serbia was involved with this historical moment. A lot could be read about France's issues with Austria-Hungary, and she knew that this was the beginning of something intense for the world.

* * *

"Are you sure on this one, monsieur?"

Booker took one last glance at the paper advertisement and nodded, "Yes, that's the one."

The real-estate agent nodded and went to the back of his office to get the necessary paperwork for him to sign. He was about to purchase a small home on the outskirts of Paris and he was most certain that Elizabeth would like it. It was still close enough to the city that she could make a trip here and spend a day in the city. It was far out enough that they wouldn't be bothered, the nearest neighbors were a few hundred feet away, but close enough for emergencies.

The man came back out and lined out the papers for Booker to sign. When Booker had first come to Paris, he gambled to fight away the sorrow he felt, and he actually won a lot. He also sold his apartment back in New York and that added to his savings. There was enough to make quite a few payments on the home and purchase two small golden rings that signified marriage. He was trying to get this done in a hurry so he could get back to the hotel and meet up with Elizabeth.

He signed the papers, and surprisingly, he felt good about it. He took his copies of the papers and other things that were important and took off to the hotel. He was close when he noticed Elizabeth standing a few paces away from the hotel as she was looking at newspapers. She jumped a little when he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, Booker," she said with a small smile, "Where were you?"

"Errands," he stated simply, "What were you looking at?"

She turned her gaze back to the black and white headlines, "There's a war going on."

He read the papers and sighed inwardly, "There's always a war going on it seems."

She nodded and held his hand while she walked with him to their room. Once inside, she noticed the papers in his hands, "What's that you're holding?"

He looked at what she pointing at and shrugged, "Just papers."

"What kind of papers?" she inquired with narrowed eyes.

He shrugged again and immediately she tried to grab for them. Booker was expecting this so he held them above his head, laughing as she jumped trying to grasp whatever he was hiding from her. She was way too short to even get near the papers. He closed his eyes laughing when she started snarling at him. His laughing stopped when the papers left his hands. Once opening his eyes, she was standing on the bed with the papers in her hands now and she was searching through them. She was on the third page when he pulled her down on the bed.

Elizabeth had read enough to understand what they were. "You bought a house?" she asked once her breath was recovered after being tackled to the bed.

"I did," he said once he rolled off her.

"When?"

He started undoing his tie and unbuttoning his vest, "Just today."

She was speechless. Somehow she managed to sit up and look at him like he was growing an extra eye. Once wrapping her mind around the idea of owning a home, or rather he did, she straddled his waist and leaned down to kiss him. She pulled away and squealed a little, "When do we get to move there?"

He tossed his vest to the side and relaxed on the mattress, "Once we're married."

Elizabeth sighed with bliss and held onto him tightly, "My dress will be ready in one day. Gabrielle paid for it as a wedding gift."

"What?" he asked shocked, "We can't let her pay for that."

"I tried arguing with her," she defended, "But she was off before I could say anymore."

Booker was going to debate about it more, but Elizabeth assured him that she insisted and that they should thank her properly when they got the chance. He finally let it go after a while and be thankful to Gabrielle for doing such a thing for Elizabeth.

"Why don't we just get married at the courthouse?" she asked him spontaneously.

"What? Why the courthouse?"

She sat up and removed her jacket for the second time that day, "It's much cheaper and faster. That way we can get to our new home and the privacy it offers."

Booker caught on to her subtle hinting about the privacy. And he agreed. He wanted to be in a place where he could make as much noise, and more importantly, he could make her make as much as she wanted. "Alright, if that's what you want."

"It's what I want," she assured him as she went for the buttons on the back of her dress. "And right now, I want you."

After making record time taking off their clothes, Booker kissed his soon to be wife all over her body and couldn't wait until they were married and could do this on their property. The idea of marriage still scared him to this day, but with Elizabeth by his side, he'd say those vows with surety and honesty with his heart completely in it. While a war was starting, a bond was in the path for Elizabeth and Booker.

* * *

**Author's note:** _So, before I get my ass chewed out; I know the beginnings of WW1 didn't start till 1914, but it fits in with the way I want this story to go. So let's just imagine that this story is taking placing in 1914, shall we? :)_

_I think in the next chapter we should get them married, what do you say? Don't fret. The story won't end after the wedding. I'll be able to churn out a few more chapters and obstacles for our dear couple. Thanks for reading and I'll talk to you all next time. -Sarai_


	7. The Newlyweds Bedroom Hymns

Chapter 7: The Newlyweds Bedroom Hymns

**Author's note:** _I'm going to be completely honest with you guys; I'm totally half assing this story so bad. I'm going along with as it may, and I get ideas from all of your reviews. Not sure how things will unravel, but I'm pretty sure the way it'll end. So, please be patient with me and if you don't like the way it goes, well, it was nice knowing you._

_You are cordially invited to the wedding of Booker Dewitt and his bride, Elizabeth. Or rather, you're invited to half of it. Oh, you'll see. If there are things wrong about the wedding, then I apologize. I've never had a wedding myself and the ones I went to, I usually spaz out during the ceremony. And this is another era and time, so I don't know how they went done back in the day. Oh, and I want to give a heads up and warning. This chapter is THE chapter, if you catch my drift. Our hero and his lady get busy in the sheets. _

_bren97122__: Well, thanks! World War 1 affected everyone, but it's just a matter how much it'll affect our little love birds. Hopefully not much!  
__Twisted Cinderella__: Love the username. They've only done oral sex as of now, not the deed just yet. But it will happen, in this chapter actually. I was kinda worried that it might come off that they had had sex already. But nope. :)  
__edboy2926__: Thanks. Oh heavens, me either!  
__Adrift At Sea__: You see, Albert Einstein alone makes my brain do backflips. But I'll probably mention him somewhere along just to show what was happening during this very busy time in history. Anna is still a part of the story, just not major. She'll be brought up soon though. Thanks! I'm glad that I could bring Gabrielle back in and show a sympathetic side to her. More chapters coming your way! :)  
__DFaf Guest__: AU is a godsend for this game. I haven't played any other Bioshock games, so I won't include Rapture. I don't want to get things wrong and ruin the story. You should write a story about it though :)  
__TheBigDewitt__: I think a lemon chapter is in order! Live long and prosper :)  
__Alyxia__: I think Liz would know from when Gabrielle told her about him calling out for her. I don't know. Hmm :P  
__Dovahkiin Vokun do Skyrim__: You're right, it probably would have worked better that way, but what's done is done. Thanks for ideas though! :)  
__Lone Reaper-068__: A miscarriage would be very sad, I don't know if I could put these two through that :(  
__spike tashy__: Thanks so much. :)_

_-Sarai_

* * *

There were many reasons why Elizabeth wanted the wedding to be done at the courthouse rather than having a lavish ceremony. One—it really was cheaper. This way they could buy an affordable but reliable automobile to transport from their new home to shops or other necessities. Two—they could get to their new home sooner, and Elizabeth could start to make a home for the newlyweds. And three—seeing the people discuss and debate the war going on with Austria-Hungary and Serbia made her appreciate what her life had become. It also made her realize how easy it was to mistake the good things in life, no matter how small it was. And at this moment, she wanted to marry Booker, avoid taking it for granted by expensive flowers, dresses and venues waving in her face, blinding her from the simple things life had to offer. It was so easy to go to the courthouse, say vows, sign a paper, and seal with a kiss, because love and romance didn't need to be celebrated in the most expensive or lush fashion. It needed to be shared with the one you love with no distractions.

Elizabeth continued to run these reasoning's through her head the entire day, and every time she went through the small list, she could feel her nerves calm a little more each time. She was almost positive that she was going to faint when she was getting herself dressed in her wedding gown. Gabrielle was there, helping her and preparing her. The French woman had advised that she come to her quite luxurious home to ready herself before she went to the courthouse. Gabrielle said it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress. So Elizabeth dressed at her home and Gabrielle took her to the courthouse.

Now here she was, looking up at Booker, standing in front of a man with a bible in his hands, feeding lines to the two and having them repeat after him. The rings were exchanged and slipped onto his and hers fingers with ease. The sermon was nearing to a closing and Elizabeth looked from the minister to Booker in anticipation, waiting for the end so she could kiss him as man and wife.

The older man in front of them closed the bible and held it in his hands with a soft expression, "I now with divine blessings and the authority vested in me by the land we stand, joyfully pronounce you Husband and Wife."

Elizabeth was nearly bouncing with excitement, whereas Booker was more patient, waiting for the man to say the words. The minister nodded softly and smiled gently, "You may kiss your bride."

More like you may kiss your husband. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Booker did the same, but he went gentler. He didn't want this old man to have a heart attack from the kiss they were displaying.

Papers were signed, congratulations were said, good fortune and health was wished upon them, and the two were off. Elizabeth nearly dragged him to their new automobile. It was rather large, but small inside. Like any other vehicle out there at the moment. The carriage was covered by heavy metal and offered some privacy that was just enough for the bride. Once Booker had gotten into the driver's seat, Elizabeth pretty much tackled him and kissed his lips, jaw, neck, and collarbone.

"Elizabeth," he called out softly, but she kept kissing him with determination, "Elizabeth, calm down. When we get home, you can have me. But let's get there first."

She stopped the kissing but brought him into a tight hug, "How can you be so patient?"

"Because we have the rest of our lives together, that's how."

"Words of wisdom," she said as she kissed his cheek and took her seat.

The cottage wasn't a far drive. Thirty minutes at the most. As they pulled up the dirt road, Elizabeth was knotting her hands together as the home came into view. When the car came to a spot, Booker had to race her to the front door, but he got there first and blocked her entrance. She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. After chuckling at his new bride, he scooped her up in his arms, an arm under her knees, and the other cradling her back. She immediately started kissing at his neck.

Elizabeth looked up at him with curious eyes when he cleared his throat. She followed his gesturing and realized he had opened the front door and she could now see the inside of her new home. He took a step in, still holding her, and when he closed the door with his foot, he set her down on the oak wood floor boards. She was still at first, looking around with wide eyes. Booker grew nervous that she may not like it, but before he could ask, she was off. She went in and out of the three rooms and studied every characteristic it had.

The cottage had two bedrooms, one wash room, a kitchen and lounging area, and a sun room on the south side of the home. It was furnished like a new home would be. Nothing fancy or rich, but just things for a new resident. Elizabeth finally stopped running around the place and now she stood in the doorway of what would be their room. It had a queen sized bed, a dresser, nightstands and a big window showing off the grassy fields beyond. She turned around and looked to Booker who still stood by the front door, waiting for her reaction.

She slowly stepped towards him, "Well, Mr. Dewitt, we're home."

Booker could feel his trousers become tighter as she came closer, a sensual look on her face. "Huh? Oh, yes we are, Mrs. Dewitt."

He was rewarded with a bright smile when he called her by her married name. She made it over to him, slipped off his jacket and began to unbutton his vest. "Booker?"

"Hmm?" He could barely mutter a hum out as he watched her hands throw his vest to the side, landing somewhere in the kitchen, and started pulling up his dress shirt.

"I'm ready Booker," she spoke as she kissed his chest, "I want you."

_Is my hearing going? _he had to ask himself. He brought her to look up at him and looked her square in the eyes, "What did you say?"

Elizabeth gave him a small smile and pulled him down to her until her lips were at his ear, "I want you to make love to me."

He didn't need to be told a third time. He captured her lips in a tender kiss, his hands unbuttoned the back of her gown, and the linen fabric fell to a pool at her feet. Still with his lips on hers, he managed to unlace her corset and pull off her silk slip. Elizabeth was pulling down his trousers and now pulling the strings on his breeches. All the while, they were patient with each other. They went at a slow pace, treasuring this moment, caressing one another.

Soon they were both naked, Booker picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom. She kissed his nose, his temples and closed eyelids and ran her hands through his hair. He laid her down on the bed and stood for a minute, admiring his new bride and the woman he loved dearly.

"So beautiful," he whispered.

Elizabeth propped herself up on her elbows and reached into her hair to unclip the mass and let it fall around her. She sat up and kissed at his abdomen, running her fingertips down his chest and along his thighs slowly. She kissed down the line of hair on his lower abdomen and to his hips.

Booker couldn't hold back the moan when her lips made contact with the tip of his manhood. She licked at him slowly, teasingly, and started to ease him into her mouth. His hand found her hair and he combed his fingers through her dark locks as she took him in. Soon his hips started to match her mouth and lips and he could feel the tightness in his stomach and knew that he was going to go over the edge very soon. He gently pulled her away before he was about to blow.

He scooped her up and brought her to lie down in the middle of the bed. He positioned himself between her legs and kissed her softly. His hand slid down her belly and between her legs. She gasped when his hand cupped her most sensitive part, her back arched a little and bit at her lower lip. His fingers slipped between her folds, rubbing her softly, and slowly he picked up his pace until she was grinding against his hand. When his hand was coated in her juices, he grabbed himself and pressed the tip of his length at her entrance.

He kissed her lips gently and rested his forehead against hers, "Elizabeth, this is going to hurt. It'll only hurt for a few seconds though, and I'll make it quick. Alright?"

She wrapped her legs around his hips and nodded carefully, "I'm ready Booker. I love you."

He kissed her deeply and pressed his tip in a little, letting her get used to the size of him. "I love you too," he spoke softly, but firmly as well, "So much." He kissed her closed eyelids, "Elizabeth, look at me." She opened her eyes slowly and looked up with a slight fear in her blue eyes. She had a high tolerance for pain, but it didn't soften the fear of the pain coming. He pushed the stray strands of hair off her forehead, "Take a deep breath for me."

And she did. But right before she exhaled, he pushed into her. Her nails dug into his back and her eyes squeezed shut when he broke her hymen. The pain was sharp and burning, the size of him was stretching her walls, and tears formed in her eyes. But she refused to let a sob escape her, she only allowed one tear to fall.

"I'm sorry," he spoke quietly as held himself still inside of her.

She shifted underneath him, holding her breath as the pain slowly drifted off. "It's ok, it feels better now."

"I'm going to pull out a little, okay?"

Elizabeth nodded gently. A quick stab of pain went through her body as he moved, but the pain went just as fast as it came and soon her nerves were shivering deliciously. He pulled out just until his tip was just about out, then he eased into her until he was all the way in. Her walls squeezed around him, but it just made him want to go faster. But he steadied his thrusts, making sure not to hurt her, but still giving her pleasure as well as receiving it.

Elizabeth started to whimper underneath and her hips began to move with his. When he'd pull out, she'd retract. When he thrust in, she'd meet him with a push of her hips. She got the hang of it easily and pulled with her legs to make him go faster, her hands stroked his back and her nails dragging on his back delectably, her lips pressing into his, her tongue mating and wrestling with his. She'd squeeze her walls around him when he pulled back as if milking him and her chest would press into him when he filled her fully.

His thrusts were becoming fast and hard. Booker cradled her knee in his hand and brought her leg up to her side, gaining deeper access into her depths. He could feel the tip of his member pressing into her cervix and her moans and chants showed that she was enjoying every bit of it. He could feel the familiar tightness in his stomach, but he wanted to make sure she reached her peak before he went over the edge.

He picked her up and had her sit in his lap, pulling her up and down on his length. She arched her back and her head flew back as she started to grind into him, panting out his name. After a minute, he didn't have to raise her anymore, because she was doing to the work now. Her walls were beginning to tighten and moans became screams. She brought herself up once more and as she sat back down, she peaked. She rode out her orgasm in his lap and made him climax just then. He filled her with his seed and clutched onto her hips as he ground her center onto him. She kissed him softly when she began to calm and the shaking stopped.

Without pulling out, he laid her down and rested his cheek on her bosom. Elizabeth ran her fingers through his hair and her heartbeat began to steady. "We're going to be doing that all the time now," she said in a breathy voice.

"We won't have time for anything else," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her.

"That's alright," she sighed and kissed his hair, "I won't want to do anything else."

Booker chuckled at her assumption. But it was true. Completely true. They were going to be in this bed _a lot._ Maybe they'd get up to eat and other things, but they knew they were going to be spending a lot of time in the comforts of these blankets.

They made love again and again, until finally their bodies grew tired. They fell asleep in their new bed, in each other's arms, as husband and wife.

* * *

**Author's note: **_Hubba hubba. Elizabeth is now a woman and Booker got laid, horay! Let me know what you guys thought with a review please. Also, what should we do about World War 1, hmm? Should we make Booker enlist? I'm think maybe, but I want to know what you guys think. Talk to you soon. -Sarai_


	8. Promise

Chapter 8: Promise

**Author's note: **_So here we are, chapter eight, and we fast forward in our story. We are one month from when we last saw our hero and lady. No worries, you will be filled in on what's been happening, how things are going. What's happening with the war and so on._

_About Booker enlisting for the French army; I'm getting mixed responses from everyone about this and I'm stuck. I can't decide what to do. So, here's what I've done. I started a poll on my profile, asking you to vote if whether or not Booker should enlist. I'll close the poll within in a few days before I start writing the next chapter. If the majority is against the idea, I won't do it. But if the majority is with me, then Booker needs to clean his bayonet. There are ways Booker can join the French army while being an American. Thanks to a wonderful reader and fellow writer, I know it is a fact he can. So, please, vote on the poll. I would greatly appreciate it!_

_edboy4926__: I understand the opposition against Booker joining the army, but I promise all will be good. :)  
__Alyx__: More is here!  
__Lord Mordaq Sevillate__: I promise that was not the end, but I'm sure you caught on to that because the next chapter is up… uh, anyways. I'm glad you like it. :)  
__TheBigDewitt__: I like what you're thinking; maybe it's what my mind brewing too. Who knows? :) I made sure to type this one up sooner so I could get it out! Brace yourselves for winter! Greetings from the states. :)  
__Kelly__: It would be really neat if Elizabeth could do those things again for WW1. If Booker does go to war, I promise I won't kill him off or Elizabeth. I don't everyone to hate me, so I don't think I could do that. Haha, it's okay to love some lemonade! Really citrus ones too! :P I don't know how much lemons I can fit in without over doing it, but we shall see :)  
__bren97122__: Ahaha, Booker got some! :P I think I have a good reason for him to join, but we'll see. Depending on what the majority is, Booker may or may not join. :o  
__Adrift At Sea__: Your reasoning's for him not to enlist are truly valid, but to have a climax with this story, I see the best way is to do something like send him to war. It's not final, but there are reasons why he would, in my opinion. Thanks for your kind words. :)  
__Laengruk213100__: Oh my, thank you so much! That really helps A LOT! I was thinking that he could forge his name and go in as a John Doe or something, but really, you helped a lot if I decide he does enlist :)  
__Twisted Cinderella__: Aw, thank you! That really helps and motivates me to write more. Well I'm glad all is cleared up about Gabrielle and what not. :) Ooh, what surprise are you thinking of?_

_-Sarai_

* * *

The sun shined brightly around Elizabeth as she walked at slow pace down a desolate dirt road with two Redbone Coonhound puppies, though they didn't look like puppies. A week after she and Booker had moved into their new home, they had gone to the nearest convenient store and on the porch outside, two puppies whined in a small wooden crate with a sign resting against it reading 'chiots gratuit', meaning 'free puppies' in French.

It took a while of convincing and a pouty lip before Booker agreed that Elizabeth could have the puppies and bring them home. It was a boy and girl, and after a small while of deciding on names, she had decided to name them Robert and Rosalind. Booker had a good laugh at that and personally apologized to the puppies for the names they were given.

The puppies grew fast in the three weeks they had them. Robert was slightly clumsy and Rosalind was a stealthy dog. When Elizabeth would cook dinner, Rosalind would hide behind the cabinets and strike when Elizabeth would place the food on the counter. Robert would somehow manage to trip on his huge paws on the flattest of surfaces, but he always looked to have a smile on his face.

So now Rosalind and Robert trotted circles around Elizabeth as she walked down the dirt road from the home that resided about two hundred and fifty feet from her cottage. An older married couple, Collette and Jean Bisset, lived in the home and when Elizabeth had come to greet her new neighbors, they welcomed her in right away. They had become friends very quickly and Elizabeth would visit them every few days. Jean owned a lumber mill a few miles away and that's where Booker was able to get a job and keep his and Elizabeth's lifestyle and income steady. Collette was a woman of all trades. She cooked, she made dresses, raised an abundance of children, and was also a midwife now and then.

In the past week, Elizabeth had visited the Bisset household three times already, and it wasn't because she was lonely when Booker was off at work. For the past two weeks, Elizabeth had been experiencing some illness that would come so fast it'd make her curl up into circles on her bed and want to cry, but then it would disappear within minutes and she would feel completely fine. Booker would nearly beg to take her to the physician, but she would decline the offer and tell him Collette would help. And indeed she had.

After a series of questions and a while of prodding, Collette had the biggest smile on her face it made Elizabeth scared what the woman had discovered. She had sat Elizabeth down, told her to calm her mind and congratulated her. To which Elizabeth arched an eyebrow and shook her head in confusion. The French woman announced with a joyful voice that Elizabeth was with child, and one month along from the looks of it.

Elizabeth expected to be scared or worried, but all she could feel was excitement and anticipation. She had jumped around with happiness and immediately tried to guess the sex of the baby. She wanted a girl, but a boy would just be perfect as well. When she had learned the news, she rushed home to Booker and told him all about it. When he didn't react the way she expected him to, she felt slightly disappointed. He had looked at her like he had gotten the worst news possible. But what did he expect? They had made love nearly every night and were bound to conceive any one of those nights. When she asked him what was wrong, he simply told her it was nothing and that he was happy. But his face said otherwise. She could see lines setting into his handsome face right then.

She and Collette had had some tea today and now Elizabeth was walking on the dirt road back to her home with her dogs begging to go faster in pace. She looked off into the fields around her and ran her hands on the thigh high grass as she walked. Her mind was peaceful looking at the serene scenery. The field was clear for nearly about a hundred feet and then a thick forest began and spanned for miles. As the cottage came into view, her shoulders felt heavy as she noticed the automobile parked near the home indicating that her husband was home from a day's work. She felt guilty for having such a reaction, she really did. But whenever she looked into Booker's eyes, he'd have a somber expression in those green eyes when he looked at her for the past week. She didn't know what brought on this depressive attitude from him, but it worried her. Worried her because she cared and loved her husband with all her heart and she wanted to help him. But she also worried because this attitude started when she had told him about her pregnancy.

She took off her boots when she made it to the porch of the cottage and brushed her hair smooth. The dog's tails wagged but she told them to sit and wait on the porch for dinner, to which they obeyed. She walked into her home and noticed Booker's jacket lying on the ground. Sighing, she bent to grab the coat and hang it on the hooks by the door. As she was taking off hers, she felt a familiar presence behind her. She didn't turn, but she leaned into him when he hugged her from behind.

Booker leaned over and kissed her temple, leading soft pecks to her cheek. "How was your day?"

She could smell the oak on him and she oddly liked it, "It was very good. I was with Collette most of the day."

"Did she walk you home?"

Elizabeth knew he was going to ask this, "I walked home alone."

He sighed heavily as he turned her around to look at her, "Elizabeth—"

"Booker, I'm fine," she assured him, "No one's going to come steal me. The dogs were with me."

"You don't know that," he said softly, "With the war going on, anyone could come and hurt you. Those dogs can only do so much against an army of Germans."

"Because an army of Germans will be coming after me specifically. Booker, I'm fine."

This wasn't an argument he was going to surrender to, "A woman in France, no matter her nationality, is red in the Germans eyes. If they got their hands on you…I couldn't live with myself. So please be careful."

She raised her hand to his face and stroked his cheek, "I'm always careful. And it's just a small walk, I'll be safe."

"A walk is a walk, Elizabeth," he claimed as he captured her hand and held her palm against his stubbly cheek, "I thought I told you not to overexert yourself."

She couldn't stop her eyes rolling, "A ten minute walk isn't going to kill me. The fresh air is good and the sunlight is better."

"You're not going to stop fighting with me, are you?" A firm head shake come from the small woman in his arms. "I just want you safe. Especially in your condition."

"My condition?" she asked with a tone of anger in her voice, "I'm with child, Booker. I'm not a cripple."

"That's not what I meant," he said quickly. He held her tighter when she tried to pull away. "Look, Elizabeth, because you are with child, you need to be safer with what you do."

Even though he was distant when she asked him what he thought about her pregnancy, he was always telling her to be safe and was adamant about her health and the baby's. "I will be. I promise I will. I'll walk slowly, I'll even ask Collette to walk me home once in a while. But I'm an independent woman Booker, I'll do as I wish, and you know that."

Another heavy sigh, he rested his chin on the top of her head, "I do. And don't ever change that."

"I won't," she told him as she leaned into him.

It was quiet for a while, but soon Elizabeth could feel her stomach begin to vibrate with hunger. She kissed Booker on his lips and left his embrace to prepare dinner for the two. As she chopped vegetables, she asked Booker about his day.

"The recruiters came by the lumber mill again," he said in a low voice. For a little less than a month now, recruiters had traveled around the country, looking for good men to join the army and fight in the Great War. France had joined the war in early August and this war was something that Elizabeth knew would mark the world for eternity.

Elizabeth stiffened a little, "Again?"

"They need more men. Four men at the mill joined today."

She watched as he took a seat at the kitchen table, slumped forward in his chair and rubbed his eyes tiredly. She continued to prepare dinner, "Those men are brave. But you aren't going to join…right?"

He didn't respond for a long time, looking out the window, deep in thought. He forgot where he was for a minute until Elizabeth walked over to him and ran her fingers through his hair. He continued to look out the window as he spoke, "I know you don't want me to, and I don't really want to."

"Then don't," she said firmly as she sat down in his lap, straightening out his vest, "You're American. Not only will they decline an American to fight for them, but this is France's war. Not yours."

"French Foreign Legion."

Elizabeth scrutinized his face, "What?"

"French Foreign Legion," he repeated. "The recruiters tell me I can join the legion as an American and fight for France."

"Well, that's good for the American that wants to join." Her heartbeat quickened when he didn't respond right away. She couldn't stand for Booker to leave for war, not now. Not ever. "Booker, tell me you're not going to join, please."

"I don't know," he finally said quietly.

Elizabeth grabbed his hand and placed it on her belly, "What about me and the baby? If you go off to war, then I'll be all alone pregnant. No one will be here to protect me or our child."

"I know that," he murmured, avoiding eye contact, "And I would be protecting you and the baby, keeping those Germans away."

She put a hand on either side of his head, a thumb at the front of his ears, "If you joined, you'd miss the birth of our baby. I don't know if I can go through that without you."

"I'd be back in time," he stated, "I'd be back before the baby is born. I promise I would."

She shook her head quickly and looked into his eyes with determination, "You're not joining the war, Booker. You can't. Promise me you won't?"

He looked into her blue eye for a long time, and when he saw that fear falter and turn into disappointment, he spoke quickly, "I won't join, alright?" He wasn't sure if that was the truth or a lie. He wasn't sure of much right now.

She sighed in relief and kissed him deeply, wrapping her arms around him. She prayed with all her heart that he was telling her the truth. She sat in his lap for a long time, neglecting dinner and just treasuring this moment. She wasn't sure what life would bring them or what they would walk into, but as long as she had Booker with her, she was ready to face whatever life was ready to throw at her. Even if it was going to be a crying baby with red ears and a toothless grin.

"I hope the baby gets your smile," she said softly as she cuddled her face in the nook of his neck. Her heart ached when she felt him stiffen in her embrace. She pulled back to see a distant expression in his eyes. "What is it, Booker?"

He shook his head, "Nothing."

She brought him to look at her, "Every time I bring up the baby in a light manner, you become detached. So something is the matter and I want to know what it is."

"I don't want to talk about it, Elizabeth." He tried to stand, but she just pushed him back down and locked him in place.

"Well I do. Do you not want kids? Do you not want kids with me?"

"Of course I do," he stated instantly, "I want to have a family with you. It's just…"

She watched as his eyes fell to his lap. With her hand, she caressed his cheek, "It's just what?"

Booker sighed and looked up at her. Her eyes were begging him to open up to her, but this was something that was not easy for him. But for her, he would. "I don't want you or the baby to get hurt."

Elizabeth's brows furrowed, "How could we get hurt?"

"I don't know, but there are many ways. Nothing can happen to you or the baby. Nothing. I can't let that happen again—" He cut himself off abruptly before he could say anymore.

"What do you mean?" she inquired, slightly fearing the answer.

Booker looked everywhere for an answer, anything to help him say what it is he needed to say. He looked to where her hand was held against her belly and felt the slightest amount of strength in that moment. "Elizabeth, do you remember me telling you about my wife and how she died?"

She thought for a moment and then she realized what he meant, "You said she died in child birth…"

He nodded with a painful look in his eye, "She did. And our daughter, Anna, died two hours later. The doctor said she wasn't fully developed or something like that. But I never forgave myself. And I ask myself every day that maybe there was something I could have done to save them…"

Elizabeth could see his eyes water and she brought him in a hug and held his head against her bosom, rocking him with her. She could feel a slight dampness on her skin and she shushed him in his ear softly, trying to comfort him.

"She was so small, Elizabeth," he muttered, hiding his face in the nook of her neck, "She was just a baby and then she was taken from me…"

She suddenly felt like crying. To cry for her husband's lose and sorrow over a daughter that should never have been taken from him, but life was cruel in that way. To cry for that little baby that never got to live and experience life with her father or just to see the trees blow in the wind and watch the flowers bloom and feel the sun shine seeping into her skin with its warmth.

She kissed his hairline and brought him to look up at her, "Booker, I'm so sorry, but that won't happen again, okay?"

His eyes roamed all over her face, looking for reassurance and strength. "Promise me," he said, "Promise me you'll be safe and stay with me."

This was something that couldn't be promised easily for a handful of reasons, but Elizabeth was going to do everything in her power to keep herself and the baby safe, and she already knew she was going to stay with Booker for the rest of her life. She placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips and spoke against his skin, "I promise."

* * *

**Author's note: **_Sweetness. Well, there you have chapter eight and I really hope you enjoyed, because I actually really liked writing this chapter. By the way, the hound's names were suggested by one of my readers and their breed is inspired by one of my favorite books, 'Where the Red Fern Grows'. Please leave a review, favorite and follow, and please vote on the poll! -Sarai_


	9. It Was the Best of Times

Chapter 9: It Was the Best of Times…

**Author's note: **_The votes are in, the poll is closed, and we've come to a decision. I'm not going to say what the results are. I'm going to have you read it and find out. Because I found it very helpful to know what you guys wanted to happen in this story, I've started a new poll. You guys vote whether Booker and Elizabeth should have a baby girl or baby boy. You can find the poll on my profile at the top of the page. And maybe even suggest names in the comments? Read on and find out if Booker enlists._

_edboy4926__: That would be pretty entertaining to see that. Thanks. :)  
__TheSilencedVigor__: Thank you! I really liked the last one as well. If the polls won in opposition of sending Booker off, I could do that. We'll see! Haha, winter is coming! :P  
__Laengruk213100__: It did have a sad ending, but it was meaningful at least.  
__Vanquish123__: I think you're right about Booker feeling the need to fight again. I think he's a man of mistakes but also one yearning for honor, so he looks for it in wars. I think if Booker used the vigor's and salts in wars, everyone would be running from him and not the Germans out of fear… :P Thanks for the name suggestion! Vote on the poll to help for a girl :)  
__Dovahkiin Vokun do Skyrim__: Cuteness, right?  
__Lone Reaper-068__: Dudes got some sad baggage… :(  
__Kelly__: Ahaha, I promise I'll write another woohoo moment soon! I'm after the pregnancy, because I feel weird writing a lemon with a pregnancy woman involved… :P And thank you for reading the quick updates! :)__  
Twisted Cinderella__: Oh, well Booker got the surprise early! :P I'll do my best to fit in more lemons for you sometime. There should be like a rebellion against the games ending! Tada, updated :D  
__bren97122__: Oh, if Booker just pulled out those guns in war, it's be pretty darn amazing :D Aw, thank you! I might hold you up on that offer. ;D  
__ElizabethDewitt__: Love the username :) A girl would be so cute! If you vote girl on the poll, there's a better chance the baby will be. Enjoy! :)  
__kieran__: I don't know if you read it, but this is AU(another universe). Of course I know Booker is Comstock. It's unfortunate that you don't like the post chapters after the first, but that's why there are so many other stories on here. So enjoy those.  
__Guest__: Dead, I'm assuming._

_-Sarai_

* * *

Another tree, more wood. More wood, more money. More money, the better Booker could support his growing family. The sound of wood being cut filled the air with its obnoxious sawing; amplifying the headache he could feel now. All he wanted was to go home to Elizabeth in the peace and quiet.

Truly, he was thankful for the job. Steady hours and an environment that kept his body going. He wasn't the kind of man to sit behind a desk and file out paperwork. Sure, he respected the average business man, but he was meant to be active, pushing his body to limits, an air of excitement and danger. The lumber mill may have been a little dangerous, but what worked for him was the busy way about the place. Kept him on his toes in case a machine went out of whack or testing his strength on the mass and weight of trees and logs. Though it was tedious, it was a job that was good for him.

As he added yet another plank to the large, organized pile, a man dressed in a blue uniform called for the men of the lumber mill to gather. Booker already knew who this man was and what he wanted. The man had a handlebar mustache and skinny legs. Once everyone was gathered around him, everyone already knew what was going to come out of his mouth.

"The Germans are coming," he spoke aloud, "And we need to be prepared when they come here. If you love the land you stand on, you will fight for it." He went on to say what he always said, claiming that this was a time to act, to join the army and show the Germans who was in charge. He finished as he always did, "Be the man your country needs and join."

It was silent for a long time, no one brave enough to take a step up and accept the role as a soldier. The recruiter with the handlebar mustache looked down his nose at the crowd and when he was going to take his leave, a quiet man who was known by the name Pierce Romilly stepped forward, twisting his hat in his hands.

"I'll join," Pierce spoke up, but kept his head down.

As he was passing by Booker, he laid a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place for a minute. "Do you want to do this?" Booker inquired with a hushed voice.

Shy man Pierce looked into the American's eyes with an expression that Booker had known all too well and had seen so many times in Wounded Knee. "For my country," was all he said.

"You have family, Pierce. Are you sure you want to leave them?"

A wife and two red haired children waited for Pierce in his small home a few miles from the mill, waiting for his return from work. Before he could think about them any longer, he shook his head, "I have to protect them. Even if it means putting my life on the line. It's for them."

Both men looked to handlebar mustache when he called out to the two, "Come now, Mr. Romilly. Your country and the people that call this place their home thank you."

Pierce nodded and with his head down, walked to the recruiter and filled out his information on the paper the man gave him. Booker prayed for the man to return home safely and soon to his family, and he thanked him for fighting to protect his own family. He was snapped out of his mental praise for the man when the recruiter called out to him.

"Mr. Dewitt, ready to join?" handlebar mustache asked loudly.

All eyes around him were glued to him as they awaited his answer. Booker looked around with furrowed brows, searching for the answer. He looked to the recruiter and sighed inwardly, "Can't. American."

"You can," he replied with a copied firm voice, "How many times do I need to tell you about the French Foreign Legion?"

"How many times do I have to tell you no?"

The recruiter weaved through the small crowd until he stood in front of Booker, "You have a family, don't you Mr. Dewitt?"

He had the sudden urge to gulp hard, but he held it back, "I do. A wife and a kid on the way."

"And you would protect her and the growing child inside of her, correct?"

Booker didn't like where this was going, "Of course."

"So protect them. Join now and keep the enemies away from your family."

"I can protect them better if I'm with them," he retorted with an edge in his tone, "If I'm off on the battlefield, I can't protect them. I'm not joining."

Handlebar mustache rolled his eyes and scoffed at him, "Americans: Britain's offspring of cowards. If you will not join, you obviously do not care for your family enough to fight for them."

Too far. The man went too far. Booker grabbed for his collar and shook him violently, "Don't you say that. I care about my family, you little shit. You call me a coward but all you do his jabber that mouth of yours. You don't fight on the field, your hiding behind the men that do and claim praise for yourself. But you're just a jackass who doesn't stop talking."

Booker raised his fist to give the man a good punch to his right eye, but when his hand was about to go for him, another hand grasped onto the nook of his elbow and held him back. Shaking with anger, Booker looked up to the man that was holding him from giving the petty man a shiner, and when he realized who had stopped him, he dropped handlebar mustache and stood straight.

"Go now, Vincent," Jean Bisset, the owner of the lumber mill, ordered to the recruiter, "You already got another one of my workers, go bother someone else."

Vincent the recruiter straightened out his uniform with haste and took off for the next location to recruit. Jean released Booker's arm and gestured to his office with a nod. The two men walked to the small room in silence, tension in the air.

Jean closed the door behind him and told him to take a seat. "Dewitt, I think it'd be best you control your anger next time."

"The guy was asking for it," Booker argued as he slouched back in his chair.

The old man gave him a stern look but it slowly turned into one of amusement, "He was. But just like you and I, he has a job to do. His happens to be talking a little too much and pressuring men."

Giving an irritated sigh, Booker nodded, "I know, but he had not right to say I didn't care for Elizabeth enough. He needs to watch what he says."

"He does," Jean agreed, "But let it go for now. You're not being forced to join. Keep your temper in check. Especially now with Elizabeth pregnant, she needs you to be strong."

"I know. I just can't leave her."

Jean nodded and leaned on his desk, "I was the same way when my wife was carrying children and when we were raising them. Now they are adults and joining the army themselves."

"Brave children," Booker said with a low voice.

"They are. And maybe stupid. I pray every night for them and wait to hear word about their locations and state of health. From what I've heard, they are safe and healthy, but I still worry. I'm not as bad as Collette. She cries every day for them."

Booker chuckled and rubbed his forehead, easing the headache away. Jean stood straight and waved to the exit of his office. "Speaking of wives, you go home for now to Elizabeth. Tell her how you almost beat up a French soldier and that I broke it up."

"That wouldn't be the first time," he said with a half smirk.

After bidding his boss a goodbye, Booker left to go home to Elizabeth. Everyday he'd look forward to seeing her. On days she was at Collette's, he'd try to wash himself of the sweat and wood chips and dust that would accumulate on his cloths and in his hair before she got home. Even though she admitted to like seeing him messy and rugged, and that would lead to more adult actions that made him want to get home all that sooner.

As he walked into this home, everything was quiet except for faint singing and an occasional puppy whimper coming from the back of the cottage. As he slowly walked to the sun room, he could hear the singing more clearly and apparently the dogs could hear his footsteps because their tails hitting the floor in excitement could be heard.

Elizabeth was lying on her stomach, a book in her hand, while twisting a dark brown lock of hair between her fingers. The puppies Rosalind and Robert lay splayed out on the rug they all three on lay on. Robert got up quickly when Booker walked into the sunroom, the poor dog stumbled on those big paws, but his tail wagged wildly as he trotted happily around Booker's feet.

"You're home early," Elizabeth said, peeking over to him.

Booker tapped Rosalind to move, and after a very human sounding scoff, the dog moved. He lay down next to Elizabeth and pulled her closer, "I ran away."

"Oh, is that right?" she inquired with a small giggle.

"Mm, maybe…maybe not." He lay on his side, resting on his forearm while he rubbed small circles on her back, "What are you reading?"

"'A Tale of Two Cities' by Charles Dickens," she murmured, closing the book to look at the spine of the hardcover literature, "Collette let me borrow it."

He brushed her hair off her shoulder to show of her thin neck, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…"

"You know it?" she asked in surprise.

"When Rebecca was pregnant—" he went quite suddenly, paralyzed by saying his first wife's name aloud. Elizabeth held onto his hand to calm his nerves, so he went on, "She would read a lot, and that was her favorite."

She was silent for a moment in thought, considering her next words, "It's quite the sad book. I can't imagine reading it more than once."

She hadn't realized at all that he very sneakily unbuttoned the back of her dress and slipped some of her dress down to expose her delicate shoulder. Unconsciously, she tilted her head to the side when he leaned in and kissed her skin, making her nerves tingle alive.

Feeling the need to talk more, she took a deep breath, clearing her mind from the sudden sexual atmosphere, "The main character I find to be the saddest." Her breath was heavy and whimpers escaped her lips as Booker gently bit at her skin. "He has no prospects in life. He's indifferent and insolent about everything."

"Maybe if he had someone," Booker hinted, referring to her, "He wouldn't be so depressed." He rolled her over until she lay on her back, eyes half closed in euphoria. Pulling the other part of her dress off her shoulders, all that was now covering her chest and torso was the thin slip. She rarely wore her corset anymore, and Booker never complained.

"There was one woman he loved," she muttered, "And after many events and…" She was beginning to trail off, but quickly remembered to finish her thought, "And things, he sacrifices himself for her happiness."

Before Booker had gotten home, she had remembered something that was very important to tell him, but now his kisses were throwing her all off. He pulled on the straps of her slip and it gathered with her dress at her hips. Her nipples hardened at the sudden freedom of fabric and cooler air and he went to kiss at her bosom and breasts.

Elizabeth almost completely lost her train of thought, when like a miracle she remembered what she needed to tell him. "Booker!" she shouted maybe a little too loudly.

He sat up quickly, worried she was hurt or something was wrong, but when he saw that her brows were raised and eyes wide, he wasn't sure if he should be worried or angry because he was pulled away from her chest. "Something wrong?"

"It's almost September," she declared.

He started leaning back down, "Yes it is, and August is almost over." A guttural sigh came up his throat when she put a hand on his chest, preventing him from kissing her again. "What is it, Elizabeth?"

"I think we should go back to Paris for a little while," she said, avoiding her reasoning, "At least until the 12th or so."

Now he was intrigued, "Why should we go to Paris and stay for such a specific time?" Something that sounded like a whimper escaped from Booker as she pulled the slip back up to cover her breasts.

"Booker, after Columbia, I went through so many tears until I found you. Some of the things I saw, some of the things I heard…terrible things Booker. One of the tears I went through was 1940. Everywhere I went, all I heard was about a war. A war called the Second World War. So it made me think, when was the first? I managed to look in the library and read what I could. But Booker, something I remember was the Battle of Marne. The Germans wanted to overrun Paris, but the French army fought them by the Marne."

Booker didn't know what to think of this. He believed her, but he wasn't sure how to deal with it or how to take it all in. After a small moment, words finally formed in his head, "When does this happen?"

"It starts on the fifth of September."

"And it happens on the Marne?" She nodded in response. "Then we should be safe here. The Marne is southeast of Paris. We're northwest."

"I'm just worried," she whispered, looking away.

He understood her worry, and in some ways, he was worried as well. He hooked a finger under her chin and brought her to look at him, "I'll keep you safe, Elizabeth."

She kissed him back when he leaned down to her, pulling her slip back down. "And our little boy?" she inquired while laying a hand on her belly.

"I'll protect you both with all my life, I promise." He kissed the valley of her breasts and lead kisses to her navel, "And It's a girl."

She brought him back up her lips and kissed him, wrapping her legs around his waist, "I told you, Booker, it's a boy."

He chuckled at her surety. For the past few days, she'd been speaking aloud that they were going to have a little boy, but Booker said otherwise. He believed she was carrying a girl. But no matter the gender of their child, he was certain that he would protect them until he took his last breath. The Germans were coming and they weren't going to come near his family. He smiled when she placed his hand flat on her bump-free belly. She was so small that Booker could lay his palm on her waist and nearly touch both sides if he stretched out his fingers far enough. She was that small. He leaned down until his lips touched the skin of her abdomen and whispered against her skin, "I guess we're going to have to wait and see."

* * *

**Author's note: **_The poll was so close that it was just one vote that made the opposition of Booker going to war the winner. I would have preferred him to join the army, but hey ho. I just hope some realize that I went against what I wanted, to be fair with most of the readers. I can use the war idea for another story maybe. We shall see._

_Now, I'm not saying this as in punishment because I'm with the minority of the votes, but the story won't be going on for much longer. I can maybe churn out a few more chapters, but it'll be ending sometime sooner than later. Before it all ends though, I'll try to add one more detailed lemon for you all who've been wanting another._

_Please go vote on the gender of their baby! Oh, and I had help from a certain 'gangster' coming up with the name of Booker's first wife. I think it fit very well. The Germans are coming! -Sarai_


	10. Stranger Danger

Chapter 10: Stranger Danger

**Author's note: **_I just want to remind everyone to vote for the gender of Booker and Elizabeth's baby. I'm not too sure when the poll will close; it might be closed by the next chapter. Who knows? If you're a guest, just let me know in the review section and I'll add your vote to the poll. And please, keep giving me suggestions for names! I like Adelaide or Delilah for a girl and Oliver for a boy, but I want to know what you guys come up with. :)_

_bren97122__: Those Germans are such pranksters. :P I would've preferred him to go off to war, but oh well. Why men went to war in those days I think are really different from now, but I don't know exactly. I wasn't born until much later… :P Oh my, it felt like every five minutes in the game, Elizabeth shouted how she found money and I'm like, "Where?!"  
__TheSilencedVigor__: I'll definitely apply the idea of war and what comes with it to other ideas. I'll do it different next time so I can get facts straight and whatnot. Indeed, whoever thought that name up is über ghetto. ;D What kind of problems are you thinking of? Fear the White Walkers! :D  
__Guest__: Thanks for the suggestion of the name! :)  
__Guest2__: Gotcha, your vote has been taken. :)  
__PurpleNinjaCat278__: I'm glad you like it! Hope you enjoy :)  
__Ze fwench dwarf__: I just can't control myself, I must write! Robert and Rosalind have been added mainly because of you and your suggestion. :D I feel that Elizabeth could take down the whole freakin' German army with a pair of scissors and her stocked up skirt… You're vote has been added, dear sir. I hope you had ze most vonderful vacacion!  
__Twisted Cinderella__: Hi, I'm Sarai and I'm a pervert for Booker Dewitt. Haha. XD Yes, it is Booker's fault! His voice is my favorite—mainly because that's all you can really get from him out of the entire game, besides his hands. :D Hmm, I don't know about one-shots. I don't really know what I could write about them to serve as a one-shot. But I'm with you, in my mind these two are just lovers, no blood relation what so ever! Thank you :) Oooh, twins. Elizabeth would be a balloon… I like it! :D :P  
__Lone Reaper-068__: Haha, Booker can totally handle himself! :)_

_-Sarai_

* * *

For the past week gunfire could be heard and smoke could be seen south of Paris. The people hid in their homes, some were crowded into bars, and others were at the churches and synagogues, praying for safety upon their families and city.

Elizabeth could be found outside sweet shops, schools, and some churches, calming the people and assisting anyone that needed help. But most often she would be with the children and she would tell them fantastical stories that they believed to be made up, but really she elaborated some of her real-life experiences.

Booker was next to her the entire time, whether he was playing the guitar while she sung to the children or discussing with other men what was happening on the Marne. It was hard for some men; they wanted to go see for themselves what was happening and join the fight and push away the Germans.

During the time that Booker and Elizabeth had spent in Paris, Elizabeth had gone to visit Gabrielle and was quite surprised to see her in such a disgruntled state. She cried in Elizabeth's shoulder, weeping for her husband who was a part of the fight happening on the Marne. He had enlisted one week before the battle on the river had started and now he was there in the fight. Gabrielle cried for the husband she had grown apart with and she promised herself while she clutched onto Elizabeth, that if the Lord would bring her husband home, she would do everything in her power to repair her marriage.

That night, Elizabeth drug Booker back to their hotel room and made love to him the entire night. She realized how lucky she was to have her husband with her and be in such a good and committed marriage. She knew she could never be without him ever again. She was afraid if he left her in some way or another, she'd die. Her heart would fail from loneliness and crumble from the sorrow. She did everything she could to pleasure him—even though that wasn't the most difficult thing in the world. Booker would be in heaven if she simply kissed him. But that night, she went out of her way to make sure he felt pleasure and the love she had for him. And he was with her the entirety of the night, not once growing tired until the sun rose and they slept for nearly the whole day, wrapped in one another's arms.

Now as they finally gained strength to rise out of bed, they woke up to people cheering on the streets outside the hotel room, shouting that they had beaten the Germans and Paris was safe. Rosalind and Robert whined at the door, begging to go out with the excited people. The poor dogs hid in the washroom when Booker and Elizabeth had come home that night, sparing their brains the trauma to see their owners do such wild things in bed. Now they were out and excited.

"I think it's time we go home," Booker enlightened as he tied his breeches securely.

"Do you think it's safe?" Elizabeth inquired as she pulled her dress up, gesturing for his assistance with the buttons on the back.

"I think so. And if anything happens," he started, leaning over her shoulder and kissing her neck, "I'll keep you safe."

She turned quickly, cupping her hands to her cheeks and smiling widely, "Oh, my hero!"

"Ouch, the sarcasm," he mumbled as he put a hand on his heart as if he was actually hurt.

She giggled and hugged him tightly, "No really, you are my hero. I love you so much."

Booker could feel his neck heat up with modesty, but he pulled her to look at him and laid a soft kiss on her forehead, "I love you too."

After dressing properly, they left their room and gathered their things into their automobile. Booker went to the lobby of the hotel and paid the bill, while Elizabeth made sure the dogs were secure in the back of the cab. People that passed her had bright smiles on their faces and spoke gratification in French.

Booker was back and now starting the vehicle, making way back to their small home in the outskirts of Paris. A day before the Battle of Marne had started, Elizabeth had finally encouraged Booker to go to Paris and wait out until the battle was over. And to her happiness, he agreed and they stayed there for a little over a week. Even though she was grateful that Booker had finally given in and gone to Paris with her and the dogs, Elizabeth missed their cottage greatly and the privacy and quietness the place offered. She could now see their home coming into view as the dirt flew behind them in a small cloud. The smile on her face began to fade as they got closer, noticing something wrong about the place. Everything looked fine except that the front door was open and Elizabeth knew she had locked it when they left for Paris. Apparently Booker had noticed this too, because he stopped the car farther than he usually would have.

He turned the vehicle off and stepped out, holding up a hand to signal for Elizabeth to stop from getting out. "Stay here," he ordered and started walking to the home. Rosalind had jumped out and followed Booker, staying right behind him as they made way up the porch.

He followed the mud tracks and drips of blood to the front door and right before he stepped inside, he turned and gestured with a hand for Rosalind to stay there. He grabbed a hammer that was resting in the toolbox outside on the porch that he left there sometime before they left for Paris. He took a deep breath and stepped inside silently, his footsteps light and slow.

The mud tracks and blood were all over the floor boards; some leading to the bedrooms, the kitchen and all over the lounge area. Very carefully, he checked the bedrooms and found them empty. The sunroom and washrooms were empty as well. He stepped out into the open area of the kitchen and lounging area, eyes checking every corner of the room.

His heart nearly came up his throat when an arm suddenly wrapped around his shoulder and a knife was held to his throat. Booker went stiff in the hostile lock and his mind quickly went to Elizabeth outside in the car. The man that held him tightly and held the knife close to his neck breathed in his ear with his hot breath and his beard scratching at Booker's neck.

"The hammer," the mysterious intruder said with a thick German accent, "Drop."

Booker thought for a moment if he should drop the weapon or not, but when the man behind him pressed the knife harder into his skin, he dropped the hammer. From what he could feel, the intruder was about his height, had a beer belly, and from his ragged breathes and quavering voice, he was wounded in some way.

From a mirror on the wall, Booker could see from the window in the kitchen Rosalind was climbing through very sneakily. As the dog crawled to the two men, Booker readied himself. He had to be careful, because if something went wrong, he might have throat slit and the man might go for Elizabeth. Timing had to be perfect.

Booker pulled his elbow forward as Rosalind leapt for the man's legs. The German cried when the dog's teeth sunk into his ankle and Booker brought his arm back, elbowing him in the gut and apparently in the man's wound.

He cried loudly and released Booker. He kicked Rosalind hard and she fell back, whimpering. Booker threw his fist and made contact with the Germans jaw, causing him to whelp and swing his knife. The knife came in contact with Booker's collarbone and cut into skin, making a good gash but nothing too serious. Rosalind coward away and hid in the kitchen, leaving Booker to defend for himself. The German stood in a stance ready to fight with his knife held in his hand, ready to swing again.

Booker held up his fists. The man had a knife, but it was petty weapon. If he has fast enough, Booker could knock the knife out of his hand and gain the upper hand. He was about to lunge when both men looked to the doorway of the front of the home.

"Booker, catch!" Elizabeth shouted at him, throwing him a wrench.

It took a moment to register, but when the wrench was in midair, he snapped back to realization and caught the heavy tool. Once gripped in his hand securely, he swung the wrench at the German and hit his arm that was holding the knife. He could feel through the wrench that he had cracked a bone and the German released the knife. Booker quickly kicked the knife to Elizabeth and she picked it up, holding it tight in her grip.

As Booker was about to bring the wrench back up to hit him again, the intruder lunged for him. But his leap was stopped suddenly when Robert, who had followed Elizabeth, ran for the man. He jumped and knocked over the German, causing him to tumble to the floor. As Robert gained his footing, he tripped a bit on his paws, but in the end, it was lucky. The trip caused the dog to clumsily dodge the kick that the German tried to deliver to the dog. Robert bit down on his leg were Rosalind had bit just moments before. The man cried out in pain and as he was about to tug at his leg, he gasped wide eyed as Booker stood over him, wrench rising to make a great and strong hit. And instantly, the world went black for the fallen German soldier.

Robert immediately let go of the dead man's leg and went to nurse Rosalind. Booker dropped the bloody wrench and stammered back, staring at the dead and bloody man on his floor. He jumped when Elizabeth placed her hands on his back.

"Booker, it's okay," she said softly. Very carefully, she took the wrench from his hand and tossed it across the room. She pulled for Booker to look at her, but he kept staring at the dead body. "Booker, honey, look at me." After a small moment of tugging and pleading, he finally looked at her. His eyes were wide with shock and from what she could see, trauma. "Booker, what's wrong?"

"I-I…that happened so fast," he muttered out.

Elizabeth stroked his cheek and then caught sight of the blood on his collarbone. "Booker, you're hurt!"

He looked down and sighed, "I'm alright. It's a clean cut, it'll heal quickly."

"But you're bleeding. Come on," she gestured to the kitchen table for him to sit down. She pulled out a rag and wet it under the faucet. She grabbed a clean wrap as she walked over to him, pulling out a chair and sitting in front of him. She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off him carefully, making sure not to put pressure on his wound. She brought the wet rag to the gash and cleaned up the injury. He hissed with his teeth tightly clenched at the initial contact of the rag and his wound. "Sorry," she murmured, dabbing and cleaning up the blood.

She wrapped a clean wrap on his shoulder and neck, making a good bandage on his collarbone. He patted her hand as she finished tying the ends, "Thank you."

She nodded and stood to tend to Rosalind would was now standing. The dog walked slowly to Elizabeth and had a slight limp to her front left leg. Elizabeth bent down and brought the two dogs into a big hug, scratching behind their ears. "You guys did very good," she praised them in a soft voice.

They wagged their tails as she dug her hand into one of the cabinets and pulled out an abundance of dog biscuits, feeding it to them. She stood and cringed at the sight of the dead man on the floor. Booker stood and walked to the dead German, grabbing his legs and dragging him out of the house. After a small moment, he came back in as his ran a hand through his hair.

He grabbed onto Elizabeth's shoulders and brought her to look at him, "I'm going to go to Jean's. I need him to go the police and tell them to come here. I'll be back very soon, but until I get back, I want you to keep that door locked and keep a weapon nearby incase, alright?"

She nodded, taking all his words in, "Alright."

He kissed her forehead and headed out the door, leaving Elizabeth alone with the dogs, a dirty floor, and a dead man outside her front door. She listened as the automobile started up and heard the dirt kick around under the tires of the vehicle. She took a good deep breath and retrieved a bucket and brush from under the sink. Robert and Rosalind stayed by the front door, guarding the entrance. Elizabeth filled the bucket with water and soap, and went to clean her floor boards, silently thanking everyone she could for her life, Booker's, the dogs, and her baby's.

She also prayed for the German outside her home. He may have tried to kill her husband and dogs, but no doubt he was a scared man and just trying to live. He must have run from the fight on the Marne when the French had gained the upper hand. Elizabeth prayed that he was in peace and whoever his family was, they were safe as well.

She had finished cleaning the kitchen when the dogs began to growl at the front door. Elizabeth grabbed for a pair of scissors that lay in a drawer, preparing for the worst. She sighed in relief when Booker came through the door. The dogs stopped growling and rubbed up against Booker's legs in affection, welcoming their owner home. He leaned down and praised the dogs himself and thanked them for 'saving his ass'. Once the dogs were thanked enough, they stayed by the front door incase another enemy was nearby. Booker sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes with exhaustion.

Elizabeth stood and walked over to him, "Are you alright?"

After rolling his shoulders, he nodded, "Yeah, I'm good. How about you? How do you feel?"

She tucked hair behind her ear and looked around her home, "I'm alright. Just a little shaken. Are you sure you alright? You looked really aloof."

"I'm alright, Elizabeth," he assured her as he stroked her cheek, "I just didn't think I'd be killing any more men."

She nodded softly in understanding, "I'm sorry you had to."

"Don't be," he said with a firm voice, "I don't like having to do that, but if I didn't, he would have gotten to you and the baby. I prefer not killing, but I don't regret protecting you."

She stood on her tiptoes and brought him down to kiss her. Sirens could be heard, so after a tight hug, Booker released her to go speak with the police. Elizabeth went back to cleaning up the floor, thinking about what he had said.

She knew that he didn't like killing, but for an odd reason, she felt it was her fault that he had to kill. He killed all those men in Columbia, protecting her from men taking her, and now he killed this German soldier to protect her again. She was grateful to and for him and always would be, but she felt guilty that that's what he would always do. She was afraid he would grow to loathe her and leave her.

This feeling was growing to be overwhelming as her hand held the brush firmly, scrubbing away mud and blood. Her eyes watered and her vision became blurry, obscuring the sight of her hand. A sob escaped her when she felt a dog's nose brush against her cheek. She looked up and wrapped her arms around Robert, weeping into the poor dog's fur. She sobbed harder when the dog left her embrace, running off. Not even the dog could be with her any longer and ran off.

After a small moment of crying, she jumped when she felt a pair of hands pulling her. She looked to whoever had their hands on her and whipped away her tears. When her vision was coming back to her, she felt slightly embarrassed when she realized it was Booker was holding her.

Without saying a word, he pulled her into a hug and held her tightly. He rocked her in his arms as she wept, "It's alright." He continued to coo in her ear caring and soft words of encouragement and comfort. Her tears slowed and she was able to say a cohesive sentence.

"I'm sorry, the tears just came and I couldn't stop them."

He brushed her hair out of her eyes and brought her to look at him, "What's wrong?"

"Booker," she said his name through sniffles, "If you hated me or you wanted me to go away, you'd tell me, right?"

A look of complete confusion played across Booker's handsome features. He studied her closely, trying to detect if she was serious. Her eyes were steady on him, but a sad expression accented them. "I wouldn't tell you because I could never hate you and I never want you to go away. Where did you get this idea, Elizabeth?"

She sniffled a bit and spoke in a shaky voice, "I'm afraid you'll get sick of constantly protecting me. Violence and bad luck seem to follow me no matter where I go. And Robert left me, trying to get away from me." She sobbed again, thinking about the dog.

She looked up to him with furrowed brows when Booker laughed. He cupped her cheeks and looked into her eyes with a chuckle escaping his lips every once in a while, "Robert left because he came to find me. He doesn't hate you, Elizabeth. Neither do I. Not only is it my duty, but I want to protect you and watch over you. Violence and bad luck follows everyone; it just seems it likes you more. But don't think about it, alright?" Tears fell down her cheeks and Booker was quick to wipe them away, "Why would you worry so much about this?"

She shrugged, hugging him, "I don't know. I just have all these emotions and I don't know what to do with them."

Booker made an 'aha' sound and stroked small circles on her back, calming her down, "Pregnancy. This is just the beginning."

"You mean I have more of this to look forward to?" she asked, pulling away slightly to get a look at his face.

He chuckled, combing her hair with his fingers, "And sometime after the birth, I believe. It's just the way it is."

Elizabeth sighed and scoffed at the same time, resting her forehead on the good side of his collarbone. "This baby better come out quick, because I don't know if I can handle all this."

"You can do it, Elizabeth. It'll all be worth it."

She nodded and finally the tears came to a stop, but she knew they'd be back sooner or later. A knock came from the door causing Elizabeth to jump a little. Booker stood and brought her to stand as well. He pointed her to the bedroom, "Rest for now. I'll get to the floor later, but I have to deal with the police right now."

She straightened out her dress and walked to the bedroom. But as she was a few steps away, Booker grabbed her wrist and pulled her back quickly. He wrapped his arms around waist, locking her against his body. He captured her lips in a passionate kiss, bringing a hand to the back of her head and deepening the kiss. He pulled away after a minute. Elizabeth looked like someone had just sucked out all the air of her and smacked her. Her eyes were wide and glazed and her lips were parted slightly.

Booker laughed at her expression and placed a soft kiss on her temple, "I want to spend my life with you, Elizabeth. And we're going to raise this baby together. Everything will be great."

A warm smile grew on her lips and she brought a hand to his face and caressed his check, "It'll be perfect."

* * *

**Author's note: **_Sorry if that ended at an odd moment. I'm just so tired that I ended it there. I'm thinking this story has a good two chapters left in it. I apologize if I seem to lack motivations and commitment with this story, but I'm just a busy girl who is working on other stuff as well. Please don't forget to vote and suggest some baby names._

_Also, because he was so nice to send a shout out in his story for me, I want to tell you guys to go check out a wonderful fellow writer on here who has written a few Bioshock stories. His penname is bren97122, and even though he says she's not good at romance, he's very good and you should all go tell him so._

_That is all, best wishes, talk to you all soon. -Sarai_


	11. The Waiting Game

Chapter 11: The Waiting Game

**Author's note:** _First off, I'd like to apologize if this seems late to some people. Some personal 'situations', if you will, have popped up in my life. So my attention is on that right now. And ultimately, my time to write has been put on hold. However, as you can probably tell, I found some time to write up the next chapter._

_We time lapsed and now we're 8 months ahead from where we were. If there are typos, misspellings, yadda yadda, please do your best to ignore it. Read on and enjoy, vigor-drinkers._

_Lone Reaper-068__: Wow, you just gave me a buffet of names. Thank you! I will definitely put those into consideration. :)  
__TearfulFriend18__: Thank you so much, that really means a lot to me. I'm glad that you like it, hope you like the update. :)  
__halocon720__: Thank you. :)  
__DatReader__: Hi there, I'm really glad you like the story. Thank you for coming back and trying the story out. It really means a lot. I hope my creativity never ends wither! Have a lovely day. :)  
__Kelly__: Hi Kelly, I'm happy that you've continued to read it! I like Eleanor, very old fashioned and Bioshock appropriate. It's in consideration. Best wishes. :)  
__TheSilencedVigor__: The end is near, sadly. :( Well, thank you. One-shot's would be a lot easier than full stories, so maybe I can try. But we shall see! You should drink milk of the poppy, while I pray to the seven for your quick recovery. :)  
__bren97122__: Psh, of course I'm going to name the kid JackAndrewDelta Dewitt! :P Oooohhh, my bad… Sorry! I've always been bad about assuming, but I fixed it. I refer to you as a guy in the shout out now. :)  
__YOY__: Haha, more like extremely taboo. :P Great, I hope you like the post chapters after the first! :)  
__Justsomegirl17__: I should just start putting up 'You may feel sympathy for these characters' as a warning for each story. Miscarriage? Oh, you mean about Anna. It was actually fairly hard for me to put that in there, but it was the most meaningful and obvious way to include Anna without making her Elizabeth. =/ What are you talking about, I love seeing your name everywhere! :P Thanks so much! Arrivederci, baby cakes! :)  
__Larom__: Either you didn't read the second chapter correctly or you didn't type your review right. Either way, as I say to this type of comment, there are plenty of stories on this site. Go enjoy those._

_-Sarai_

* * *

**April 11****th****, 1915**

Sweat trickled down Booker's temple as the screams got louder and louder on the other side of the door he paced by. Collette Bisset's voice could be heard, nearly shouting to be heard over the screams coming from Elizabeth in the room. Robert and Rosalind whined at the door, pawing with weak attempts. They knew they weren't allowed into the bedroom, just as Booker wasn't allowed either.

An earsplitting scream filled the entire home, making Booker rush towards the door. He stopped his movements when everything went completely silent. All that was heard was the dog's whimpers, Booker's heavy breaths and the thump sound in his chest. His grip on the brass knob was freed when the door flung open and Collette stood there, looking up at him, and blocking his entry and view inside the room. His organs knotted together in worry and his heart felt like a good sharp dagger had impaled it. He gulped hard as Collette wiped her hands clean with a towel, her face tired and her frown in a thin line.

* * *

**(5 hours earlier)**

Elizabeth bit her bottom lip, staring at the playing cards in front of her. She looked to Collette sitting across from her, feeling intimidation as the older woman tapped her foot and resting her chin in her hand. Collette yawned, using the playing cards in her hand to hide her mouth. She sighed, starring at Elizabeth.

"Have you decided, dear?" she inquired.

"Uh, I think," Elizabeth mumbled, choosing a seven of hearts and a seven of clubs from her hand, and laying them down on the table with hesitant hands. She peeked up at Collette, waiting for her reaction.

"That is quite good, my dear," the older woman said in thick French accent, "But not as good as mine." She smiled widely and laid 5 cards on the table. "A straight," she said with a happy grin.

Elizabeth frowned and studied her cards, "This is pain. We've been playing for days and I still eat dirt."

"Oh darling, don't eat dirt. Not good for the baby," Collette said with a wink. "And do not feel bad, your husband is much worse."

A giggled escaped her lips, "I hope you don't tell him that. His pride would be very hurt."

Collette waved her hand in the air, "I've told him many times and I'll tell him many times more. Mr. Dewitt does not favor me, so I must stoke the fire."

Elizabeth stood, stretched her sore back and walked to the lemonade pitcher on the countertop. She took a good gulp of the sweet and sour beverage, the liquid traveled through her body, relieving some of the heat she felt. She held back an 'oof' sound when a strong kick hit her. She set her hand on her very pregnant belly, "Calm down, baby. We're both hot, give me some slack."

Collette laughed, stood from her seat and walked to Elizabeth. She cupped her hands on her large belly and bent lower until her lips were leveled with her navel. "You must treat your mother well, sweet child. When you come out into the world, you will have much time to kick your father."

Elizabeth laughed aloud at that, "Booker already takes my kicks at night. I think I can take the baby's kicks."

"If you say so," Collette said with a shrug. Just as she was finished talking, a familiar sound of gravel and dirt being crushed and moved could be heard. "Speaking of the devil," Collette muttered as she looked out the window from the kitchen to see Booker pulling up to the house.

A small smile grew on Elizabeth's lips as she straightened out her light blue dress and smoothed her hair that had now grown to her shoulders. She took small steps, almost wobbling, to the door and waited on the porch as Booker made his way to her.

Striding quickly, Booker admired his pregnant wife. Her skin glowed like porcelain, her blue eyes shined brightly, her hair shiny in the sun, and her lips rosy red. When he finally made it her, he had to lean over her belly to kiss her. He felt the baby in her belly kick against his abdomen. Getting down on one knee, he kissed her belly as well.

"How's my little girl doing?" he asked the baby, "Treating mommy well?"

Elizabeth had let it go a long time ago whenever he called their baby a girl, even though she believed otherwise. She was just so happy to see him attached to the child inside her just as much as she was. "He's been kicking a lot today," she spoke softly, looking down at Booker.

He kissed her belly once more and stood tall, leading her back into the house, "It's because she's ready to come out." When he was closing the door, he heard the shuffling of cards. He turned to look in the kitchen and sure enough, Collette was there.

"Good day, Mr. Dewitt," she greeted him.

"Good day, Mrs. Bisset," he said in a gruff voice.

The older woman smiled at the sound of his voice. She placed the deck neatly on the table and scrutinized the man, "How is my husband today?"

Booker wielded off an overly excited, full grown Robert. He held back an annoyed sigh, "Why don't go home and ask him?"

"Booker!" Elizabeth shouted at him.

He rolled his eyes as Collette raised her hands at Elizabeth. "Don't worry, my dear. Your husband is just grumpy as always," she said with a calm tone. Her eyes narrowed at Booker, "I would go home to my own husband, but for your wife's sake, I am here. So you're welcome."

For the past week, Collette had been staying at the Dewitt household. Elizabeth was a week late past her estimated due date, so she stayed with her in case she went into labor. She had been serving as Elizabeth's midwife and she needed to be near when contractions would start. It was just a matter of waiting when that happened.

Booker wanted to say some not so nice words to the know-it-all woman, but for his wife's sake, he held it back. He started loosening his tie as he walked into his bedroom, Elizabeth following. She closed the door behind her and helped to undo his tie.

"You should be more kind to her, Booker," she said quietly, "She is a lot of help here."

He sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead in frustration and sitting at the edge of the bed, "She just gets on my nerves."

Elizabeth nodded and took a seat next to him, going much slower because of her weight. Booker started laughing as he watched her. She smacked his arm, "It's not funny! You try having all this weight on her stomach."

"I-I know," he stuttered out, trying to stifle his laughs, "You just move like an old lady."

She put as much strength in her punch as she hit him, "Stop it! It's not funny!"

Booker grasped his arm, but when she pouted at him, he couldn't hold back the laughter any longer. He looked the other way, her expression making him want to laugh more. He could feel her shift around and when he looked at her, he grabbed onto her hand. She was standing, well trying to stand. Booker held back the laughs and pulled her to him.

"Don't try to stand," he said in a light voice, "It'll make me laugh more."

She glared at him and crossed her arms over her belly, "Meanie."

He did his best to hold back the laughter, but a few 'ha's would escape him. He snorted when she frowned at him, her hair covering half her face. He pushed her hair away and brought him to look at him. He smiled when she stuck her tongue at him.

"Making fun of your wife who is carrying you child," she mumbled, brushing her nose against his, "Shame on you."

He closed the space between them and pressed his lips to hers. "Shame on me," he whispered against her lips, tracing his tongue on her lower lip. He started leaning her down onto the bed, still kissing her. He stayed lying on his side while his hand started pulling the ties on the front of her dress. After the dress was open, he slipped a hand in and kneaded her chest. Her breasts had gotten larger with pregnancy, and ultimately, more sensitive; making her react to his touch much faster.

She moaned against the kiss, clawing at his vest. She pulled him closer as their tongues danced with one another. She was undoing the last button of his vest when a sudden harsh pain struck her. She pulled away and cried in pain.

Booker quickly sat up, and as he was about to touch her belly, she cried out again. His hands hovered over her frantically, "What did I do?"

"You did nothing," she assured him, the pain slowly going away, "I'm alright."

"Elizabeth, this isn't good," he said quickly, "What's wrong?"

He helped her sit up, but just as she did, her eyes went wide. He asked around five times what was wrong, but she just sat there with surprised eyes. She looked down and the front of her dress was wet. Not with arousal, but something else. She looked up at Booker, "Get Collette."

He was hesitant at first, scared to leave her, but when he didn't move, she shouted it. He was up, nearly running for Collette. He leaned outside the bedroom doorway, and yelled for her, "Collette! Hurry, it's Elizabeth!"

Collette was in the room within a few seconds. She walked to Elizabeth, inspecting her closely. Elizabeth cried out again, making Collette stand straight and turn to Booker. "I need you to get plenty of towels and sheets, lots of water, and make sure those dog's don't get in here," she listed off to him. When he didn't move, she grasped his chin and made him look at her, "Make haste, Dewitt! The child is coming!"

He nodded to the older woman and looked at Elizabeth, "I'll be right back, Elizabeth, I promise."

And he was off, retrieving what Collette had ordered from him. Within five minutes, he was in the bedroom again, handing over what was needed to Collette. While he was on the scavenger hunt, she had moved Elizabeth back onto the bed and had her leaning against a large pile of pillows. She was gripping on the sheets around her and her eyes shut tight.

Booker began to stride to her when Collette raised hand to his chest and held him back, "I'm sorry, Mr. Dewitt, but you need to wait out there."

"I'm staying in here," he declared instantly, "I'm not leaving her."

"You won't be leaving her. It needs to be me and her. You'll just rile everyone up with your new father antics. So please, for Elizabeth's sake, wait out there."

He was about to shove her hand away when Elizabeth spoke up, "Booker, don't worry, everything will be fine. Collette will get—"

She was cut off when another sharp pain struck her. Collette fought with him, "Give me space, man! The baby is coming rather quickly and I need to tend to your wife, so let me get to work."

After the pain left once again, Elizabeth slumped back onto the pillows. Booker took a step back towards the door, and when Collette lowered her hand, he quickly side stepped and dashed for Elizabeth's side. He held her hand and brushed her hair off her sweaty forehead, "I can't let you go through this alone."

"I won't be going through this alone," she said, turning her head to look at him. "Everything will be fine. I want you with me, too, but Collette just needs the space. When it's all over, you'll be in here in no time."

"Promise me. Promise me you'll still be here when this is over."

She gave him a weak smile and leaned to him. She placed a soft kiss on his forehead, "I promise, Booker. We'll both be here, alive and healthy. I promise."

He captured her lips and kissed her deeply. After a few seconds, he pulled away and pecked her forehead. Very reluctantly, he stepped backwards to the door. He went quicker when Collette led him out. When he stood outside the door, she patted his arm gently.

"Don't worry, Mr. Dewitt," she said firmly, "I've done this before, and everything will go smoothly."

She was gone before he could say anything, closing the door. Now he was alone with the dogs, playing the waiting game.

* * *

Collette stood in front of Booker, cleaning her hands on the linen cloth. She sighed heavily, sweeping her hair off her face, and looking up at the man. She was sure she had never seen a husband with such a worried and scared expression, and she had birthed a good amount of babies. He tried getting around her, but she kept a hand to his chest, holding him back.

Booker gulped hard. He grew nervous that she was holding him back. What was she holding him back from? Had something gone wrong? Before he could ask his questions aloud, she spoke first.

"Mr. Dewitt," she started with a flat voice, "You need to be quiet and calm. You might scare the child and Elizabeth."

"They're alive?!" he almost shouted.

Collette covered his mouth with her hand and pointed a finger, "I told you to be quite." She removed her hand when he nodded. "Yes, she is alive and so is the child. Congratulations, Mr. Dewitt. You are now the father to a healthy baby girl."

She quickly took a step away from the doorway and he nearly stomped over her. He burst into the room, and held his breath when he caught sight of the most perfect moment that ever occurred. Elizabeth was sitting up, leaning against the bed frame with a particularly small bundle in her arms. She looked up with watery eyes and a bright smile.

Booker slowly stepped towards them. He was afraid that maybe they were a mirage and someone was playing a cruel joke on him. But when he sat down on the bed next to Elizabeth and saw his daughter for the first time, he knew that this was real. He studied the infant closely, tilting his head to get a better look. She was a red little thing. She looked like a potato with a scrunched up face. Dark wispy hair poked out from her small head, going in every direction. Sucking on her tongue, she shifted a little in the tightly wrapped blanket.

He pushed back the tears that dared to spill over, trying to stay strong in front of his daughter. His gaze moved to the baby's mother. Elizabeth looked tired and worn out, but to Booker, she had never looked more beautiful. Her eyelids were heavy, but her eyes were bright. Her lips were curved into a gentle smile.

"You were right." When he arched an eyebrow, she leaned her head on his shoulder. "We had a girl."

He chuckled softly, "I told you. She's perfect." He wrapped an arm around her and with his free hand he brushed his fingertips on the baby's forehead. The pad of his forefinger was the size of her nose. He looked to Elizabeth when she spoke again.

"What should we name her?" she inquired.

"Hmm," he thought for a small while. "What do you think of Constance?"

"That was your mother's name, wasn't it? I think it's perfect," she leaned down and laid a soft kiss on the baby's fuzzy head. "Hello, Connie. I'm your mother and this is your father."

Booker could feel his heart beat a little faster when Elizabeth introduced him. His mind rushed trying to come up with something to say. He smiled when Constance made bubbles with her lips and made a 'coo' sound. He couldn't hold back the small tear that left his eye, and it landed on the baby's forehead. He was quick to wipe it away, "Sorry, kiddo." She made another nose when he traced his finger on her nose.

After a long while, Elizabeth handed Connie over to him. He was nervous at first, but as he got used to her light weight and the tininess that was her, he wanted to hold her all the time. He rocked her in his arms, humming to her, stealing soft kisses on her forehead, and a few sniffles coming from him.

Elizabeth had fallen asleep after a while, lulled to sleep by Booker's sweet words and humming for their baby girl. She was so exhausted from the birth. Connie had come so quickly and it stole all the energy from her.

Booker held Connie for over two hours. When that two hour mark passed, his body felt lighter. His wife and baby were alive, healthy, and here with him. He couldn't ask for any more. He had everything he could have ever wanted and needed. Life was being good to him right now, and no matter what was going to come his way, he was going to make sure that Connie and Elizabeth were always going to be safe and healthy. Because they were his world and life was perfect at that moment.

* * *

**Author's note: **_Fist pump for finishing that in one sitting. The vote for the baby's gender was dominated by the votes for a girl. The name Constance comes from a reader, Lone Reaper-068, so thanks so much for the suggestion! I think Connie Dewitt sounds so nice._

_I hope you all enjoyed. Please review and favorite. I think the next chapter will be the last and it's going to be an epilogue. I can put a lemon in there if enough people want it. I'll do my best to type the next chapter up soon, but that's up to my schedule right now. Talk to you all (hopefully) very soon. -Sarai_


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue

**Author's note:** _More than once as this story had gone on, I had thought that maybe I should have just left it at a one-shot. But once I got over playing the martyr, I realized that would have been a stupid idea if I never continued it. This story has been the biggest, most maddening, pain in my butt. But it taught me to write better and to respond to the reader and give them what they want. Thank you all for sticking with me throughout this little story and you all deserve chocolate golden coins!_

_I will warn you; this chapter does get slightly raunchy—more so than past chapters. But I don't think you could ever have enough lemons. :D I think Minute Maid should sponsor this story with how much lemonade I wrote into it. So, read on my shepherds and lambs, and enjoy the last update to this story._

_Justsomegirl17__: Tissues might help. :) Or we just let men be right, yeah? ;D I kid. Oh yes, you are always welcome in the home of Sarai's fan fictions! :D Problems suck, but I'll get through the damn speed bumps. The wrestler? Ooh, Dewitt is a much nicer Booker in my opinion. :P Arrivederci, doll!  
__child who is cool__: Thanks. :)  
__Twisted Cinderella__: Oh, too kind, you are too kind! :D I want to see people little FanFiction with hibity jibity moments between Booker and Elizabeth. It must happen! Thank you, I will see what's up my sleeve for more Bioshock! :) Haha, dully noted, one more lemon. ;D  
__Fanficiton108__: What's Aalemon? And thank you. :)  
__Lone Reaper-068__: Big chocolate coin for you! :D  
__idamari__: Thanks so much! I'll do my best to keep writing. :)_

_-Sarai_

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_July 17__th__, 1919_

_Dear Gabrielle,_

_I was so happy to hear from you and even gladder to hear how well you are doing. When do you and Louis go to China? Have you decided what orphanage you'll be adopting from? Have you chosen names? You have to answer these questions, for they are eating at me with curiosity! Booker says that curiosity will be the thing that kills me._

_Our family is doing very well, thank you for asking. Connie just loves to talk and run around with the dogs. The other day I was chasing her through the fields behind the cottage and she tripped into a pool of mud. She loved it, to say the least. The dogs, Connie and I had a long bath that day._

_The look on Connie's face when her father comes home from work is a look that melts my heart. I thought that maybe I'd be jealous by the attention she gives him and he gives her, and how close they are, but when I see them together, there's a happiness that fills my heart that it almost hurts._

_On her 4__th__ birthday in April, she made a wish as she ate her dinner. She looked up at us and said, 'I wished for a little brother'. And that was it. She went back to eating and let that hang in the air like the little mastermind that she is. Booker froze and stared at me as if I was the one who had to decide or answer. He's scared about having another kid. I can see it in his eyes every time the topic comes up. And I know why he is. He already knows I want another baby, but he continues to skirt around the topic._

_Booker has been busy since May when Jean retired and Booker inherited the lumber mill. That was quite the surprise, but one we were thankful for. At first he had to get used to taking care of the mill, and it took a few months until he finally relaxed. Now he's gotten the hang of it and the place has flourished._

_Right now, Connie is in the sunroom with Rosalind—who, might I say is very protective over Constance. I can hear her knighting the dog, using the fairy wand she made a few weeks ago out of a stick she found and ribbon from one of her dresses. Robert has been titled Sir Robert since a few days ago. I'm still waiting to be accepted into the royal court of Queen Constance Dewitt._

_I can hear an automobile driving up to the house and I already know who it is. So I think it is an appropriate sign for me to say farewell for now. I look forward to hearing more from you and I hope everything goes well with the adoption._

_Your friend, Elizabeth_

As Elizabeth signed her name, the door opened and in the doorway stood her husband. She set the pen on the table and stood, walking over to him and giving him a 'welcome home' kiss. She could smell the cedar on his clothes and it reminded her of nature. Without warning, he pulled her into a deep kiss after scanning the room, making sure that Connie couldn't see the lustful embrace.

Whenever Booker had a long, bad, or just hardworking day, he'd kiss her like this when he came home. She kissed him back, gently gripping onto his hair to keep his lips pressed to hers. Her skin tingled as he pressed against her, the heat from his body comforting her. The familiar burning rose inside her as he started pulling her up, hiking up her skirt so she could wrap her legs around his waist. As he was about to take one step towards the bedroom, he stopped and pulled away, looking around the house one more time.

"Where's Connie?" he asked with a breathy voice.

Elizabeth stared at his lips as he talked, and when pinched her derrière, she jumped and answered his question, "She's in the sunroom knighting Rosalind."

"Didn't she knight her yesterday?"

She shook her head, fighting the urge to kiss him again, "That was Collette, today is Rosie's turn."

"Busy daughter we have," he murmured, leaning back in and brushing his lips against hers. She whimpered when he pulled away, "Isn't it time for her nap?"

Elizabeth looked to the clock resting on the mantel of the fireplace in the lounging room, confirming it was indeed Connie's nap time. She unwrapped her legs from his waist and started walking to the sunroom, maybe a little faster than usual. She awed quietly when she walked into the room, admiring her small daughter passed out, laying on top of a sleepy Rosalind. Her pink lips were slightly parted as she drooled on the dog and her eyes moved under her lids, indicating she was dreaming.

Booker appeared behind her, chuckling softly at the sight. He rubbed Elizabeth's back as he slipped past her, picking up Connie. Rosalind looked like she let out a heavy breath when the weight of the child was lifted off her back. Connie rustled around in her father's arms, yawning and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"C'mon Rosie," Booker called for the dog as he walked to Connie's room. The dog was going to follow anyway, but when she got the permission, she walked at a leisurely pace beside her owner.

"You need to call her by her title, daddy," Connie said softly, rubbing her tired eyes. "I knighted her and now she's Lady Rosalind."

"C'mon Lady Rosie," he corrected himself. He looked down at his daughter in his arms, "Is that better?"

She nodded against his chest, "Much better." She was so small in his arms. Her dark hair was a knotted mess, but he knew that was just a necessity for being a child. She had gotten Booker's green eyes, but otherwise, she looked almost exactly like Elizabeth, just a smaller version. "Did you build a castle today?" she asked. For some cute reason, Connie assumed that working at a lumber mill meant that he built castles.

"It's in the works." He pulled the pink floral bedcovers down and laid her on the bed, "Get some sleep now, kiddo."

"Daddy?" she called as he pulled the blankets over her.

"What is it, honey?"

Connie grabbed for her dolly and snuggled up under the covers, "When am I going to get a little brother?"

Booker gulped and looked back at Elizabeth who was leaning against the doorjamb. He searched her eyes for an answer, and lucky for him, she walked to them and answered for him. "When the stork is ready, they'll bring us your little brother."

"Can't you make the stork come faster, mama?" Connie queried, looking to her mother then to her father.

Elizabeth bent down, kissing her daughters forehead and tapped her nose with her forefinger, "I'll do what I can, baby girl."

Connie smiled, satisfied. She turned on her side, facing away from her parents and was almost instantly back to sleep. Booker and Elizabeth quietly walked out, closing the door behind them. Immediately, Elizabeth started pulling him to their own bedroom, undoing the buttons on his vest. He began raising her dress up and once she raised her arms, he slipped the dress off as well as her slip. Booker made sure to close the door behind him, not wanting any dogs to interrupt or waking Connie.

In one swift move, he pulled off her stockings and garments, leaving her completely nude. Somewhere in the mix, she had managed to get his shirt off and now she was pushing down his pants. She stood to kiss his chest while she pulled the strings on his breeches. He bowed a little and brought her face up to kiss her. After stepping out of his breeches, he picked her up to lay her on the bed.

"So the stork is coming now?" he asked, positioning his hips between her legs and nibbling on her neck.

She moaned when she felt how hard he was against her, not yet entering her depths. "I suppose it is. But that's up to you."

He bit her neck when she rubbed her hips against his, gaining a pleasured hiss from her. He soothed the place where he bit, licking her skin. He almost forgot what they were talking about. "It's up to the both of us," he stated with a coarse voice. "Do you want another?"

"You already know I do, Booker," she told him, bringing him back up to her eyelevel. "Don't you?"

He rested his forehead against hers, trying to come up with words but all his blood was in his groin, making his mind run a little slower. "I'm just…"

"Scared?" she asked, finishing his sentence. He nodded sheepishly. He was scared that maybe the pregnancy would go wrong with this one. It was too good, he thought, that when she was pregnant with Constance. Nothing had gone wrong. But Booker was never one to trust luck, fate, or whatever they called it. He was afraid that karma would screw him over and something would go wrong this time around. Elizabeth, however, had faith and she just knew that everything would go fine and everyone would be healthy.

She cupped his face in her hands, "Everything will be just fine. Connie is completely healthy and so am I. I believe another time around won't hurt me or the baby. Booker, don't you want another? Are you ready for another kid?"

The longer Booker took to think about it, the more Elizabeth burned with excitement. He was still pressing against her and even though he wasn't aware, he was teasing her. The place between her legs ached for him.

"I'm ready," he said quietly, "I want another kid."

Without warning, Elizabeth pushed him over until he was lying on his back. She climbed atop him and straddled his hips, her hands on his chest. She leaned down and kissed him, slightly biting on his lower lip. "Then we better start trying."

Before he could say anything, she started to grind her heat against his length, causing a throaty moan to escape him. She sat up while dragging her nails down his chest, making his nerves scream with pleasure. She ground harder on him, teasing him.

"Eliz-Elizabeth," he stuttered, propping himself up on his elbows. He brought a hand up and cupped her breast in his hand and watched as she ground down on him.

Elizabeth could feel him twitching against her, knowing that her foreplay had strung him tight enough. She brought herself up a little, her fingertip tracing small circles down his chest until finally her hand made it down to his hardness. She held him in her hand and brought the tip to her entrance. In a quick second, she pushed him into her heat and sat further down on his lap, impaled by his length. She bit her lip to hold back the harsh scream as her nerves tingled deliciously.

Booker immediately fell back onto the bed, growling in the back of his throat as her walls tightened around him. He clutched at her hips and led her movements, encouraging her to go faster and harder. She didn't need his direction, but she followed his lead, moving her hips up and down, tightening around him as she brought herself up and coming down hard.

Letting go one of her hips, he brought his thumb to the nub of her heat, pushing her closer to the edge. His thumb circled her nub around, making her moan aloud. When she arched her back, the tip of his member hit a sensitive spot inside her and her walls clutched around him, tightening in spasmodic movements as her orgasm hit.

He sat up quickly, swallowing her screams with a kiss, making sure not to wake anyone in the house. Her hips didn't stop though, they kept up with the grinding, riding out her orgasm, and persuading him with her center to come with her. She started circling her hips around in graceful sways, moving him side to side inside her. She squeezed her walls around him every time she went from side to side. She kissed him fervently, sucking on his tongue. Her nails dug into his shoulders, clutching for dear life as her hips went faster and faster.

Booker was trying to hold in his orgasm in as long as he could, wanting this moment to go on forever. But this battle with his body was becoming the hardest he ever fought; proving to be more challenging than Wounded Knee or Columbia. He was so close when she moved her kisses to his ear and she nibbled on his earlobe. And then she did it. She made him go over the edge.

She whispered into his ear like the little nymph she was, "Come for me, Mr. Dewitt."

And he exploded. Filling every part of her center with his seed. It was almost a guarantee that she was going to become pregnant. He hid his face in her neck as his vocal cords expressed the pleasure rolling through him. He fell back onto the bed—_again_—pulling her down with him. All that was heard was heavy breathing as they began to regain the strength.

Elizabeth brought her hips up slowly, his now soft member leaving the comfort of her heat. She rolled to the side of him, her leg resting in his thighs as she rested her chin on his chest, gazing up at him. His eyes were closed, his chest rising up and down. After a small moment, he finally opened his eyes and looked down at her, meeting her gaze.

"Mr. Dewitt, huh?" he said with a raspy voice.

"It's my wild card," she claimed through soft giggles.

"Apparently," he murmured. He leaned up and rested on his forearm while looking down at her. Brushing his finger through her long dark hair, he admired every part of her. She looked almost exactly the same when he first met her. She hadn't aged at all, mainly because she was still so young, but she would always have those clear blue eyes that made the world seem a better place. He found the world cruel. While she looked perfect, he grew older and fine lines grew deeper around his eyes.

Elizabeth found him more attractive as the years went on, which she never thought that was possible since she thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen when she first laid eyes on him. His eyes were still very green, brooding and strong. His body was still built and lean, not showing any age in her eyes. He was the man she had fallen in love with the first day she met him, she still craved him as much as she did that day on the gondola, and she still wanted to be with him since her search started for him after Columbia. And her happiness never faltered ever since she found him in Paris on the veranda. He was the man she was always going to love and was meant to be with. He was her everything.

_Fin_

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**Author's note: **_I'm sad that this has come to an end, but __I hope you all enjoyed the ending to our love story. Let me know what you thought with a review pretty please._

_I have an idea for other stories that are for Bioshock and centered on Booker and Elizabeth. One in particular is moving and shaking in my mind and I'm trying to get some research done for it so I can start writing it. I can't promise when I will be able publish let alone write this story. Hopefully sooner than later. Thank you all and I hope you all have an amazing day!_

_Your friend, Sarai_


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